


Adjustments

by PacificNorthwestGirl



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: CanWNT, F/F, mcmasar - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-08-09 18:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7812268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacificNorthwestGirl/pseuds/PacificNorthwestGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Ella being in Sweden to dealing with minor setbacks to her game, Erin is struggling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic ever!  
> Originally inspired from an Instagram post of Erin's from Feb 2016. I kind of ended up taking off with the idea :)

I count up in my head. The number is too high, I think. I switch over to counting in the other direction. "Only" five days left; but, after how long it's been, that doesn't seem like an only to me. The apartment is too empty...too quiet. Has been for 3 weeks now.

As much as I love this city, my home, it's just not the same anymore. Not the same when I'm here alone. Well, technically I have Max, but he does little to help with conversation. At least I'm doing what I love here - being with my team and competing. It's one of the things I live for.

The clocks read 9:50pm. I figure it's late enough, so I decide to go to my room and get ready for bed. Climbing under the sheets, I rub my hands over my face and let out a defeated sigh. Sensing movement, I look to my right. Sure enough, there's the dog. Max has the saddest look on his face as he climbs over and curls up on her pillow.

A soft laugh escapes my lips and I pull out my phone. It's so pathetic that I have to post a picture. I open Instagram and add the caption "I mean. It's not even fair @emasar3 your son misses you."

"It's okay, Maxwell, we'll see Mama soon," I try to reason. But he isn't having any of it as he continues to look at me with those puppy dog eyes. "Since when did I lose my title of favourite, anyway?" He cocks his head, but swiftly decides to give up on me and go to sleep.  

 _Great, now I'm trying to hold up a conversation with a dog!_ I internally berate myself.

Before long, my phone lights up, Instagram notifying me that Ella had commented. "5 days baby..." confirming my internal tally. I smile - as if he's the one who really needs the comfort. But, hadn't I just been doing the same? Besides, what time is it in Sweden anyway? I know she's crazy, but what is she doing up at seven in the morning? Probably working out as per usual, preparing for our first season with FC Rosengård. Not that I'm complaining. I like how fit and strong my wife is!

My phone dings in my hand. I look down and see a new text. 'Max better not be getting too comfortable there ;)'

"Ooh, Mama doesn't seem happy about your new sleeping arrangement, buddy." But all I get in response are the soft snores of my current sleep partner. I roll my eyes at the snoozing pup.

'I don't know, you might have to fight him ;)' And then I add 'You know I miss you too, babe!'

It takes a couple minutes before she writes back. 'Haha. I can't wait for you both to join me...miss you always.'

I shoot one last text telling Ella that I'm going to sleep; and she tells me to sleep well, that we'll see each other soon, and she loves me. I respond with 'Love you too'. Okay, fine, that was the last text.

Slightly appeased, but still anxiously awaiting our reunion, I set my phone aside and close my eyes.

 

**

 

5:45am. Why am I awake thirty minutes before my alarm goes off? Rolling over, I notice Max apparently abandoned his post at some point during the night. I can hear him gently snoring, though, so he must be nearby.

Ugh, I hate this empty bed. But, I remind myself, it's only for a few more nights. Soon enough I won't be waking up in the middle of the night or ungodly hours of the morning missing my wife's warmth. This career that I love so much sure has its share of demands and sacrifices required to make it work. Like missing our first Valentine's Day as a married couple. Still, there's nothing I'd rather be doing. Nowhere I'd rather be. Well, maybe one place...

I twist my ring around my finger a few times, close my eyes, and ultimately decide I might as well get up. There's no way I'm falling back asleep now; and besides, I know I need to be up soon and get ready to head out to the final practice before our flight out for tomorrow's CONCACAF game.

In my head, I run through the itinerary for now through the weekend: quick morning practice and flight today; game tomorrow; possibly the CONCACAF group championship game Sunday; packing, packing, packing; then leaving for Malmö late on Monday. Just four more days. Four days and I'll be journeying to my European home. Four days and I'll be on my way to holding Ella again. I can do this, especially since practice, travel, and our game will take a lot of my focus over the next two days.

Sitting up and stretching, I swing myself around and my feet hit the floor. Max perks up from his place in his doggy bed in the corner of the room. First, I need to get myself some breakfast, then take him for his morning walk, and finally maybe talk to Ella quickly before I have to head to the field at 7. Just over an hour; I should have enough time. I'll shower after practice.

Now that I'm up, Max starts to get worked up, coming over to greet me. I bend down and pet him while he licks at my hands.

"You have to wait a bit, buddy. Mommy can't go out before getting dressed." My stomach rumbles. "Plus, I need to eat first. How about breakfast, Max?" He wags his tail and heads down the hall to the kitchen. I laugh at his eagerness and change into my warmup sweats and shirt before following him.

"Ok, here you go," I say, setting his bowl of food on the floor beside his water. He begins eating and I go over to the fridge. An omelet sounds good to me, so I quickly whip up the eggs and start making my breakfast, adding my favorite ingredients like cheese and onion and peppers.

Ten minutes later, feeling satisfactorily full, I'm hooking the leash to my overly-excited puppy and in desperate need of coffee if I'm going to make it through today. We step out into the crisp, cold morning air typical of mid-February in Vancouver. There is a coffee shop not too far from my apartment, so I decide to guide Max in that direction.

A few minutes later, we're walking though the café doors. Since I frequent here, especially when I'm home for camps, the baristas know who I am. Like the blonde who's working this morning. "Good morning, Erin...and Maxwell!" That gets her a tail wag and happy face from the dog.

"'Morning. How are you so awake already?" If I didn't have to be awake right now, I definitely wouldn't be. She laughs and shrugs.

"Guess I'm just a morning person. What will it be?"

"Oh, just the usual." An Americano with a pump of vanilla and cream. I smile, remembering when Ella didn't include an important part of my coffee order on an episode of The Ella and Erin show last year - the memory effectively sending another pang of loneliness through me. God, I miss that weirdo!

I thank the girl behind the counter before leaving the money, taking my drink, and heading back home.

By the time we walk back into the apartment, it's almost 6:30. Shoot, I just have enough time to call Ella before I have to leave by 6:50. I can make it quick, though; and besides, the practice field is _barely_ ten minutes away. In order to save time after the phone call, I gather up my bag with my cleats and gloves and shorts, and set it by the door ready to go. Thankfully I thought ahead and am already packed for travel later.

After the second ring, she picks up, greeting me. "'Morning, baby. Ready for tomorrow?"

"First of all, hello." Ella rarely bothers easing into conversations. "Second, you know I might not play, right? We'll see how I'm feeling at practice," I say, reminding her of the situation.

She sighs into the phone, facing the truth, but responds with "I know, Erin. You know I'm still proud of you either way."

"Yeah. I just wish I could do more sometimes."

"More? Haven't you been helping Canada qualify? And looking to be with a pretty good standing, too. Your country is lucky to have. So are your teammates. You've done your part and now you are gonna need to take care of yourself so you can help them bring home gold in Rio."

She always knows how to encourage me. I smile, even though I know Ella can't see it. "Thank you, babe. I mean, of course I know that. But, you know me. I'm never satisfied with settling."

"I wouldn't have you any other way." And I can hear the pride in my wife's voice as she says that.

"You push me to be the best. I owe it to you." That should earn me points; not to mention it actually is true. Ella is the strongest, most determined person I've ever met and I'm proud to be her wife. Luckily for me, she's proud to be mine, too.

"Wow, McLeod, making me blush from thousands of miles away. Must be a record," she laughs.

"I try," I quip, loving that we can keep up our usual banter even over long distances.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

We stay on the phone for another fifteen minutes before I check the time and realize I have to get going. "Ok, Ella, I gotta head. I love you and I'll try to call you tomorrow evening."

"Sounds good. I love you, too, Erin. Kill it at practice today and have a safe flight."

"Don't worry, I will," I say, a little cocky.

"Okay, now I'm hanging up. Don't want your head to get too big." And with that the call disconnects, which is for the best since I really do need to leave or I'll be late. I make sure Max still has plenty of water before grabbing my bag and keys and running out the door.

 

**

 

Practice goes well for a while, but my knee is acting up a bit. Earlier in the tournament, I tweaked it but it hasn't been too bad and I am sure I can play another game on it. I have probably just been pushing it too hard while qualifying for the Olympics which are in just under six months. It will be hard to keep us from it at this point. Ella was right, we're looking good in the standings.

Observing Steph's warm-up in goal, I'm confident in her position as second. She looks poised and comfortable there - a natural - and is definitely able to get the job done. I don't have anything to worry about if I end up missing a game, which I'm starting to think could be the case.

And, to be expected, I scan the field to see that Sincy and Tanc are looking good up top along with Soph, D, and Desiree holding their own in the middle. Speaking of, there goes a nice "Sophie Moment". I chuckle as I watch her pick herself back up.

"It just wouldn't be right without a nice face plant, eh Schmidt?" I call over to where God-knows-what happened in the drill to cause only the world's clumsiest midfielder to trip and fall.

Whipping around, Sophie spots me still smirking. "Ha. Ha. Can it, McLeod. It takes talent to be this coordinated," she indicates all of her, while flashing a grin. One of those classic, teeth-exposed grins only the short-haired blonde could give, that you could spot across an entire pitch.

"I'll leave it to the professional, then," I shoot back.

With a shake of her head, she brushes herself off and jogs over to the rest of the midfielders to continue the drill, where I'm guessing she hopes to remain on her feet.

By the time practice is over, I've talked with the trainers and together we have decided I can still play tomorrow, but they don't think I should play more if we advance. Obviously I'm bummed, but really, what was I expecting? I know I should take it easy...I'd hate to do anything to cause further damage to my knee. Especially when I have a club waiting for me in Sweden and Rio waiting for me in August. The little extra time to heal after tomorrow will be necessary.

"You're up, Labbé."

"What?" Steph glances my way as we and the rest of the team are making our way back to our cars.

"After tomorrow. It's on you." Nothing like a little pressure, right?

"Oh, yeah. John caught up with me a few minutes ago. I hope you don't mind not playing if we end up continuing."

"Of course not."  A small lie.  "I didn't think the end of the tournament was looking too good for me anyway. But we're deciding to give it one more try before letting it rest up."

"How is it feeling?"

"Been better. Been worse, though too, so I think I'll be good in no time. It just has to hold up through the win tomorrow." I flash her a smile.

"Well, I'm ready after that!" She responds in kind. "Don't worry. I got this, McLeod."

"I wasn't worried," I assure her.

With that I load up my car, get in, and promptly pinch the bridge of my nose, leaning my forehead against the steering wheel for a full minute. It's not that I don't trust Steph; I have complete faith in her goalkeeping abilities. Physical limitations just bother me to no end. As I straighten up and pull away, I feel somewhat more defeated than I did this morning, fearing this could turn worse if I'm not careful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with the story and setting - like the Canadian team being in Vancouver. I know they weren't at this point seeing as the CONCACAF tournament took place in the US. But for the sake of my story, that's where they were. Also, references to Erin's knee injury already existing were taken from Ella's most recent blog post the other day saying that she had qualified through it.
> 
> Not sure how much I'll write.  
> Tell me what you think :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I know it's highly unrealistic to have gone from  
> Vancouver to Houston in the middle of a tournament...sorry about that and any other timeline discrepancies there might be. The inspiration for the first chapter just kind of came and I wrote it without enough research beforehand.  
> Feel free to let me know what you think and if there is anything I need to work on :)  
> (Sorry this chapter is shorter than I had intended.)

I pack my bags while Ella keeps me company, sleepily watching, and occasionally talking, from my computer's perch on the dresser. It is a good thing a lot my belongings were already taken to Sweden when we both went over there. There are fewer things leftover to pack up than I had been anticipating when I left Canada, which is good since I don't think I have enough energy to ship more than these necessary items.

The last few days were a bit of a whirlwind, to be honest. We left Vancouver to head down here to Houston for our final games just four days ago. Unsurprisingly, yet still a relief to me, we won our game against Costa Rica 3-0; and, unfortunately, yet still unsurprisingly, the US beat us on Sunday. That was a hard game to watch, because, well, I mean...I was _watching_  it; and I have never been one to do well sitting on the sidelines. Steph played a solid game, but the Americans have such a strong team, they will always be tough competitors. Still, we came away with silver going into the Olympics so I really can't complain too much. We'll be one of the top teams there which is definitely a good position to be in as it gives us a bit of a leg up on the competition.

My disappointment from not being able to play against our biggest rivals has still not faded entirely, and I know I probably didn't appear too thrilled as we received our medals after Sunday's game. In reality, I was just so exhausted; and sure the loss didn't help nor did the fact that I was benched due to a stupid injury; but, really with the tournament over, I was just at a point where all I wanted was to be on that plane that would take me to my loving wife. Which brings me here, Monday afternoon, just hours away from leaving for the airport.

"Hey! You okay?" Ella's voice pulls me from my thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired, really." I know she'll recognize that I'm referring to more than just physical exhaustion.

"Don't worry, you'll be here in no time...ish. And your knee is healing good, no?"

"Oh, yeah, it's doing alright. I've been icing it, resting it, making sure I don't put too much weight on it - that sort of thing. But, really it doesn't feel too bad anymore."

"That's great news, Erin," she says, smiling that smile that I love so much. "Once you get here, you'll be training in no time and back on the field again."

I pick up a few clothing items, placing them into my suitcase. The smile creeping across my face helps the ache in my chest, just knowing how close we are.

"I can't wait, babe. To be back out there with you. It's gonna be new and different, but I'm ready to start this season and settle into our new home."

"It's here waiting for you."

I smile. "How has training been going?"

Hazel eyes gleaming, her face lights up, and I can practically feel her elation through the screen and across the miles. "Oh, it's been great. The girls here are the best, you'll love them. Although the language barrier can be difficult at times." She shrugs, like it's no big deal.

Before I can hold it back, a groan slips out of my mouth. _Damn, I nearly forgot about that particular adjustment_ , I think.

"What's wrong, honey?" There is a thin layer of concern in Ella's voice.

"Nothing much, I just kind of...maybe...forgot I'd have to actually _learn_  something there," I pout.

The laughter I hear should be illegal. It's not fair or my fault things like that come more naturally to her than they do to me. Ella picks up on that sort of thing fairly quickly.

"Don't worry, we'll learn together. I'm sure we will both be fine."

"Easy for you to say," I mumble as I finish packing up my clothes and plop on the bed, grabbing my computer in the process so it can rest next to me. "Actually, I suppose it could be a little fun to learn another language," I tease.

Ella doesn't miss my wording. "You mean on top of the ones you already speak."

My sheepish grin betrays the fact that she hit the nail on the head. I do take some amount of pride in knowing more languages than Ella does, however much my French is lacking in fluency.  What kind of Canadian would I be if I didn't know enough to get by, though?  And then there were the years I lived in Indonesia.  I had to know at least the basics there.

Rolling her eyes, my wife gives me a reprimanding look, as if to tell me I would be in trouble if she were here. Or if I were there? Either way, I know she doesn't like when I feign incompetence or try to lessen my abilities. And my flopping between that and cockiness can get on her nerves, I know; but, for some reason, I still can't help it around her. Even after two and a half years, she brings out that coy side of me.

"Erin Katrina, you are a child," she scolds.

"Well, that's awkward, given our status," I smirk with a sly grin, waving my left hand in front of the camera to drive home my point.

"Agghh," she groans, exasperatedly, throwing her head back. And I'm sure she would have blushed a little if she hadn't been busy glaring at me.

"You can't deny it." My hands shoot up defensively (and strangely, seeing as I'm now laying on my side). "Besides, I never pretended to be anything but myself. You knew full well what you were getting into."

"Yeah, yeah. Doesn't mean there aren't times I don't know what to do with you, though."

"You love me anyway." The wink followed by doe eyes that I flash her have yet to fail in getting me back on her good side.

"You know I do," she sighs. "You can be a real dork, though. But, I can't wait to have you home," she concedes. "And my buddy! Where is he, by the way? I miss my crazy son!"

Glancing around the room, I spot Max trying to ignore his annoying moms who are keeping him from successfully napping. My laugh irritates him and he gives me some serious side-eye while he lays his ears back on his head, which is resting on his front paws. "He's trying to sleep, and I don't think he's happy with us right now."

"I bet if he saw me, he'd feel differently." There she goes, insinuating the falsehood that Max loves her more than he loves me.

"Sure he would." I sarcastically draw out the word 'sure', with a roll of my eyes.

"What? You know how much he loves me."

"Yeah, and you know how much I need to stop stalling and get on with my afternoon and all the last minute things before my flight." It's already 4:30 and I have to be at the airport by 7:00pm at the latest. With the flight leaving at 9:00 and having to go through customs and get the paperwork for Max processed, two full hours will be entirely needed.

A yawn escapes from Ella's mouth and I remember how late it is for her.

"Babe, get some sleep; it's 11:30, isn't it?"

"Y-yeah," she answers around another yawn. "But, I don't mind staying on."

I shake my head. "Nope. You're getting sleep, I'm finishing up here, and then we'll be together tomorrow night."

"Okay," she relents.

"I love you, honey."

"I love you, too, Erin. See you tomorrow night."

We hang up and there's a smile on my face. Only about 22 hours until I'm no longer climbing into an empty bed at night. 22 hours before my family is whole again. 22 hours and I'll feel truly home for the first time in nearly a month. It's time to focus on really finishing up here, because God knows the last thing I want is to miss my flight!

 

**

 

Max and I end up having nothing to worry about, as we make it to the airport on time and miraculously don't have to wait in any long lines. Security is a bit slow, but nothing outside the ordinary; you come to expect some level of waiting when you travel as often as I do.

 

**

 

Fifteen and a half hours; two layovers; roughly five hours of uncomfortable sleep; and one dog who is completely over it later, the plane touches down in Malmö, Sweden - 7:30pm local time. Exhausted as I might be right now, the adrenaline of being so close to my awaited reunion with Ella is keeping me awake and functioning.

'Just landed :)'

*buzz* 'great...I just pulled in. Meet you at baggage?'

'I'll be there ;)'

I deplane with Maxwell in tow and head toward immigration. Tedious technicalities like this, postponing my proper arrival by even a short amount of time, threaten to drain the energy I've been clinging to for the time being. Besides, my dog is starting to get restless - not that I can blame him, the poor guy.

The short line I have to wait through is some small comfort to me...at least this won't take too long. Once the line dwindles and it's my turn, I'm done within 10 minutes and gathering my things to head to baggage claim, where I know Ella will already be waiting. At just after 8:00, I imagine the conveyer is going and the luggage has already started coming through, too.

Even with that knowledge, I first decide to seek her out; the bags will still be there. When my gaze lands on her, Ella's eyes are already on me and she has the biggest grin spread across her beautiful face. My own lights up as I make my way toward her and make up my mind that I don't care how many people are around, I've waited too long to kiss her. Our arms wrap around each other for a long moment; and before I can act on my decision, Ella pulls away, tugs from where her hands had come to rest on my neck and leans up to greet me with a long-awaited, albeit somewhat shortened, kiss. One, however, that allows me to feel how much the time and distance had affected both of us and makes me hold onto her a little tighter.

Max's excited barking from his place at our feet breaks us apart and drags my wife's attention away from me and onto her other love.

"Buddy! I've missed you so much," she coos as she scoops him up and he licks her face repeatedly. "Were you a good boy? Was it a long flight?" This could go on for a while.

I smile at how much they really do love each other before interrupting. "He was a champ. Barely whined and slept quite a bit, although he did get restless after several hours. He's become quite the seasoned traveler."

"I'm glad you were good for Mommy," she continued, her attention still on our fur baby, her voice still in baby mode. Turning her focus back over, eyes mirroring my own feelings of love and longing and contentment, she addresses me. "You look tired, honey. How was the flight for you?" A crease forms between her brows as she asks.

"Long," I laugh. "I probably look tired because I am. Managed to sleep a handful of hours between the three flights, but I haven't slept soundly for four weeks."

Ella's face is full of understanding, and we share a moment of silent communication where her eyes tell me she has experienced the same.

"Tonight will be much better, Erin," she assures me. "Let's get your things and head home."

"I already am home, Ella," I reply, leaning down to place a tender kiss on her cheek. "But, I know what you mean, and I couldn't agree more."

She gives me a warm smile and we gather my bags off the belt before walking out of the airport with clasped hands and our faithful dog following at our heels.  I can't help but marvel at how quickly the tension left my body after seeing those hazel eyes - the physical, chemical relief that comes from just being around her.  The reassuring pressure applied to my left hand reminds me how connected Ella and I truly are, like she was reading my thoughts or change in mood and is agreeing.  This feels as close to perfect as I can imagine: my chest isn't aching anymore, I'm no longer limping, and things are looking up.  Maybe it's that, even in a new environment, I feel like I am home for the first time in a while.


	3. Chapter 3

We walk through the apartment door. Well, Ella walks while I am just struggling to remain upright. After the long flights and having my excitement realized, no longer my source of energy; exhaustion is seeping into my bones. It's a strange thing, since it's 7 hours earlier for my body, but the lack of sleep on my overnight flights made me more than ready to be so many time zones ahead. I have no problem believing the clock that tells me we are in the second half of the 8pm hour. But, I am well aware that, were I to go to bed now, I would mess up my schedule; so, I plan to hold out for at least an hour and a half longer.

"Welcome home." Ella ushers me into the narrow entrance hall with a dimpled grin.

"I couldn't be happier to be here," I reply. A content sigh accompanies my response. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'm starving."

She laughs and beckons me forward, toward the back of our small apartment. "I figured you would be. Dinner will be ready in about 10 minutes. It's already cooked, so I just have to pop it in the oven."

The door my wife leads me to on the right side off the hall opens into a small eat-in kitchen with a table in one corner and a door that leads to a little balcony.

"That sounds amazing. You're so thoughtful."

"I know," her smug voice comes from the fridge.

My gaze traces the kitchen area and back toward the door we just walked through. That's odd, I could have sworn that dog was right behind us.

Ella, attentive as ever, turns, reads my expression, and answers my unasked question. "I think I saw Max head straight to the bed when we walked in."

"Ahh. He has the right idea. Smart one, that pup. He gets it from me, you know?" I give a playful wink, which earns me a slight shake of the head, but I detect a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "Bathroom?" I query. My travels have left me feeling the need to wash up.

"Oh, right. Sorry, maybe I should have showed you around real quick first," Ella realizes. "It's just to the right." She points into the hallway.

"Hey, it's fine. Thanks." I place a kiss on her cheek before walking in the direction she indicated. A quick peek reveals a living room across from the kitchen, the two separated by a tiny bathroom. That must mean the room we passed just inside the entry is the single bedroom. I'm quickly discovering that places in Sweden are smaller than they are in North America. But, I honestly don't mind because this is our home. We don't need much room for the three of us.

Closing the bathroom door, I hear Ella step out of the kitchen and call to me. "Erin, I'm gonna go ahead and get your bags out of the entry and into the room, okay?"

"Don't worry about those. I can get them in a few," I call back. She shouldn't have to take care of that. Really, I should have done that when we walked in.

"Don't be silly. It's no sweat off my back. Just relax. You deserve it after the last few weeks you've had."

I roll my eyes at the mirror, but can't help feeling grateful that I have a loving and patient wife that wants to help out in the small ways. It makes coming back to her that much sweeter.

After splashing some water on my face and brushing my teeth, I decide to hop in the shower just to get a little more comfortable. The hot water relaxes the tension in my body and eases the tight muscles and joints of my leg and knee. I'm pleased to note that it is continually feeling much better.

My stomach begins to urge me to eat, so I cut the water and dry off, then promptly remember I didn't grab a change of clothes. Mentally face palming myself, I step into the hall wearing only the towel. Ella spots me from the kitchen table and quirks an eyebrow at me, giving an approving "Mmhmm".

I wag my eyebrows in response before walking over to her. "You like this?"

"Eh, it's alright," she teases, but her eyes show me more than she's letting on. She clears her throat and moves to turn away. My hands on her waist still her, though. I lean down to give her a kiss and then another.

"Okay, the food smells amazing. I'm going to put something on and come right back, because - as I previously mentioned - I'm hungry." And tired, but I think she knows that.

A playful smirk plays on Ella's face and she reaches up and kisses me one more time before I release her. "I know you are, honey," she says sympathetically. "Don't worry. There is plenty food. And then we can do whatever you are up for after. First, though, let's sit and eat. I don't entirely trust your ability to stand right now."

"Sounds perfect." And even though I'm too tired to want to do much, I can tell this will be a good night.

 

**

 

I wake in the morning to an arm across my chest and Ella's head snuggled into my shoulder, feeling completely and blissfully content. Last night's events run through my mind, as I brush the hair out of my wife's face.

With the tv on low and my head in Ella's lap, I had dozed off for a bit not long after dinner. My exhaustion just hadn't allowed my eyes to stay open any longer, and her fingers running through my hair had been so soothing. About an hour later, the tv off, I had woken up revitalized enough for us to...well, let's just say it feels good to be home!

Beside me, Ella stirs and leans up to brush my jawline with her lips.

"Well, good morning to you, too."

"It really is," she hums. "I didn't expect you to wake up before me after the day," a mischievous look enters her eyes, "and night you had."

"Okay, let's not get carried away. We don't need your head getting too big, now," I half-heartedly reprimand, even though we both know I can't hide my serenity in this moment.

"I'm not the one with that problem, babe." Oh, she's fighting back.

"Hitting me where it hurts, Ella. Not cool," I scoff. 

"Somehow I think you'll get over it. Besides, you started it."

"I so did not. But, I could finish it." With a swing of my legs, I place myself over her so I hover there. She's giving me a challenging look and dodges at the last second so I miss my mark, catching the corner of her ear with my lips. I can feel her shiver under my weight when I whisper, "What now?"

It's at that moment, Maxwell decides to make his presence known by whining and climbing over to us. Ella laughs at his timing.

"Well, now we get up and take Max out."

"Saved by the dog," I mumble, rolling off of her and hopping out of bed.

"Thank you, Maxwell," Ella sickeningly praises. "I wuvy, wuvy, wuv you. Yes I do." At this point Max is going ballistic, licking every part of her face he can reach and wagging his tail furiously at the sudden focus of all of her attention.

"Do you have to do that with me right here?" Bitterness, and apparent jealousy over my dog, seeps through my words. I don't mean to be like this, but I simultaneously love and hate how much Ella dotes on him.

"Are we making Mommy unhappy, buddy? Maybe she should get some loves too, eh?" He barks once and looks over at me questioningly. How does she do that? Get him to respond to everything she says.  There is no denying they have a strong bond, those two.

I begrudgingly pat his head and scratch his ears, which in turn yields many kisses to my hands. "Thanks for the love, buddy. Even if it was forced."

Ella slides out of bed and stands behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist. She presses a soft kiss to my neck which warms me staring from the top of my spine down.

"I love you, Erin," she coos to appease me.

"Yeah, yeah. Love you too, dodging kisses and loving Max more than me aside." I lean my head back on her shoulder.

She lets out a ringing laugh and kisses my neck again before pulling away. Silently, we both begin to get dressed.

"Hey, I was thinking," she starts.

"Yes?" I prompt.

"Do you maybe want to spend some time today exploring. We don't have to if you aren't up for it and just want to stay in and relax for the day. But, there are pretty cool shops and restaurants around town. I thought maybe we could ride our bikes and and just enjoy getting you familiar with the area."

I can feel the grin stretch across my face. "Ella?"

"Yeah?" she asks, distracted.

"That sounds perfect," I assure her.

"Really? Oh, good. I think you'll love it."

"Oh, I'm sure I will. Now, how about I take Max out for a walk and we make some breakfast before we head out?"

"Or we could both go out with him. I want to be around both of you right now."

"I totally understand. Of course we can all go out."

She smiles at me and nods her head.

"Okay, we're gonna want to bundle up. It gets so cold out there. You thought Canada was cold in the winter..." She lets the sentence trail off.

"I remember." I give her a knowing look. I was here a month ago and again last night. Even the brief time spent outside twelve hours ago was enough to remind me of the bitter air and stinging windchill.

 

**

 

A few hours later we're riding around, me in front with Max in the bicycle basket and Ella behind, and I'm taking in my surroundings. I enjoy familiarizing myself with and exploring new places. This town I can really see becoming my home. It just has that homey, comfortable look and feel. Cobblestone and paved roads, authentic buildings, snug coffee shops, everything you could want in a European city.

"Stop there and face me," Ella demands.

I comply and stand to turn slightly to the side while my bike still faces forward. Her phone is out, so I smile for her to take the picture.

She's smiling and I can tell how much my being here is affecting her. Ella might be able to do just fine on her own and clearly has been loving getting into a routine with the new team, but she's been in such a good mood all morning that I know it's because she has wanted to share this with me. I can't help the feeling in my chest as I watch her pocket her phone and climb back on her bike. How is it possible I can brighten her mood just as she does mine? How am I this lucky? How did I go this long without knowing what I was missing?

"You coming?" she asks while starting to pedal.

I shake myself out of my trance and nod. "Yup, coming."

We see a lot and stop for lunch and I'm thoroughly wiped by the time we head back home.

"Thanks for suggesting that, honey. I think I'll really love Malmö."

"Me too."

"Can we just hang out here the rest of the day? Maybe watch tv or play some music or something."

"That would be great. I'll meet you in the living room. Just let me use the bathroom first."

"Sure."

I cuddle with Max and a blanket on the couch while Ella heads to the end of the hall. When I open Instagram on my phone, I see that she has uploaded the picture of me and Maxwell already. It's captioned: @emasar3 'How proud I am to introduce, to Europe, the McLeod's ... Every last one ;) #itsofficial #FCRosengard #happyday'

And I don't think I'll ever quite get used to that. Us being "The McLeods". Her being my family.


	4. Chapter 4

Soft lips on mine stir me from my sleep. Before I can react, I feel them pull back, so I raise my head, searching. Ella laughs at my reaction and presses another tender kiss to my mouth which I reciprocate this time. When we separate, I allow my eyes to ease open and rest upon her beautiful face smiling down at me. I return her smile and sigh, content.

"Happy Birthday, love," she greets.

My mood quickly changes, and I groan out an unintelligible response. She knows how little thrilled I am at being another year older. While my wife is still in her twenties; even if it is for just over one more month; I keep getting further into my thirties.

"Hey, it's not so bad," she tries to comfort me. "You still look as good as ever. And mental age has to count for something, right?"

"Are you saying I'm immature?" I ask in mock disbelief. But, it still stings a little.

"What? No, I would never." Her grin broadens.

"Surely you didn't wake me up, on my birthday," I emphasize, "to insult me."

"Well, not just that, anyway. I made you breakfast. Your favorite." Ella wiggles her eyebrows.

"Breakfast burrito with fresh fruit and coffee?"

"You know it."

Okay, I can handle celebrating this day if it means morning kisses and waking up to breakfast. I think.

"Where is it?" I look around the room, but come up empty.

"The kitchen. You know you don't like eating meals in bed."

It's hard to deny that, and I'm once again grateful for a wife who understands me and thinks about those little things.

"Thanks, babe." Pushing myself upright, I give her a quick peck on the lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Now come on, let's eat." Her excitement is contagious and I can't help but follow her down the hall. But, underneath her apparent genuine happiness, I do detect something slightly off in the way she's carrying herself and notice her joy seems almost forgotten as quickly as it appears. This could be one of those days for her. And it makes my heart ache to watch Ella struggle, knowing she still has difficulty truly opening up and volunteering information sometimes.

"El?" I rest my hand on her arm as she lays the food in front of us.  
"Yeah, what's up?" She looks at me curiously.

I see warmth in her eyes and wonder if it isn't possible I was mistaken. Maybe she is doing alright. Either way, clearly she wants my birthday to be special and I'm not sensing anything seriously wrong so I let it go. For now. "Nevermind. Thank you for doing this. Everything looks delicious."

"Anything for the wifey on her special day," she cheeses, adding a wink. Her face holds a slightly bemused expression, though, knowing that isn't what I had been about to say. She graciously drops it and goes on. "And don't worry, I got you gifts, too."

"Gifts, plural?" I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. We usually like to keep things simple.

"Nothing too big, really. Don't get bent out of shape."

"No bending," I respond defensively. I'm met with a doubtful look before she continues.

"Okay. Anyway, since we have practice and weights to hit today, I didn't make any plans aside from this. So consider any extra presents an apology for that."

In the last couple days since I arrived, I officially signed my contract with FC Rosengård and started working with the team. So far in my limited interaction with the girls, I'm already enjoying it. The game is different everywhere you play, every team you are on. I like the European style and technique. And, although it's hard to tell in just a couple meetings, Ella's assessment that I would like our new teammates seems accurate as of now. Overall, this new chapter in our life is looking promising; I have no doubt we'll fit in nicely here. Ella never has a problem with that, though, becoming instant friends with countless people she comes in contact with.

"Oh, please, you know I don't need big plans." Deciding to tease my wife a little, I add, "But there better be something good. You know, just to ease my mind about turning thirty-three." My nose crinkles and I let my face reveal the displeasure I feel to give more emphasis to my statement.

As usual, Ella glosses over my feeble attempt to guilt trip her. Sometimes I think she only hears half of what I say, which is probably why she still puts up with me to be quite honest. "I didn't think it would bother you that much. And don't sweat the extra stuff. Like I said, it's nothing too big."

Shaking my head, I turn to my breakfast, smiling. Ella focuses on her food as well, and we sit like that, eating and exchanging a few comments until she checks her watch and informs me we need to head out soon. She rises and begins clearing items off the table and I do the same, despite protests of "it's your birthday" and "I can really take care of this, Erin."

"What difference does that make, Ella? I know you can do it, but birthday or not, I don't mind helping. Besides, if we need to leave, this will take less time." Begrudgingly, she accepts my help.

"The bags aren't ready, are they?" I ask as we finish clearing and placing dishes in the sink. They can be taken care of later when we have more time.

"Yeah, they are. I got them all packed and ready at the door when I woke up earlier to make breakfast and take Max out."

"Wow, really? You're the best!"

"And don't you forget it," she says, smacking my butt. I never will.

I slip my feet into a pair of shoes and we each collect our bags. As I'm about to open the door, Ella leans toward me.

"Oh, and Erin?"

"Yes?" I ask, intrigued.

Her eyes dance mischievously. "If you're good today, there might be a special present for you tonight."

"Ooh, that sounds promising." My best goofy smile plays across my face. I put on a silly voice and promise, "I'll be on my best behaviour."

Ella simply replies with a laugh.

 

**

 

We arrive at the practice field and half the team is already there. Damn, Ella and I usually like showing up early if we can. It will probably just take some time to get used to the schedule and time change, for me, then we'll be back to our overachieving selves, arriving first and leaving last.

The sky is clear and it's a beautiful day, albeit cold. There is a snip in the air as we trek toward the small group.

"Hej, Ella. Erin.  Hur mår du?" one of our new teammates, Emma, greets us in Swedish. I wave in response.

"Hej, Emma, jag gör bra," Ella answers, hugging the other girl.  So, she's already learned some conversational Swedish, I see.  She then takes her bag and joins the few forwards on the pitch, including Brazil's own Marta.

Unpacking my gear, I put my gloves on and change into my cleats. I head over to one end of the field where a couple of my defenders are juggling.

"Ah, the goalkeeper arrives," Ali Riley, the American-raised New Zealand National Team fullback, jokes.

"Hey, we aren't even late. Just not early," I counter.

A laugh trails from her lips. "Someone's touchy."

"Ha. Ha. Okay, let's get to work, why don't we?"

Before the rest of the team and other members of the coaching staff turn up, we start warming ourselves up with some goal passes. The two defenders practice some tackles and clearances, I try a few long and short kicks. Shortly after, the forwards join us, and now I'm having to block goal attempts from Marta and my wife. It proves to be more difficult than I would like to admit. They are both really talented with the ball.

"I can see why you are so renowned. It's a good thing I don't actually have to play against you," I say after the last shot goes in; a particularly good hook from the Brazilian that, even with the correct read and dive, I wasn't able to get more than my fingertips on.

She gives me a smile and shrugs. "Thank you. Or...sorry?"

"Don't be, she'll get over it," my loving wife answers for me. She winks in my direction and I just roll my eyes. I was trying to compliment Marta, but clearly all Ella sees is my competitiveness.

By this point, the rest of the team is here and ready to go. All five of us make our way to the sideline for instructions.

"You know, I totally almost had the tackle on her on that last one."

"Sure you did, Ali. And I almost didn't make that third shot on Erin," Ella sneers.

"Shut up." Ali playfully shoves Ella's shoulder, causing her to duck away before redirecting. I can't help but laugh at their antics. Technically I could mention the first two shots of Ella'a that I blocked, but I figure that might not count as my best behavior so I bite my tongue and continue forward.

When we reach the sideline, our coach offers his commendation on the little of our practice he witnessed. Obviously there are things we all have to improve and work on. Primarily team bonding and chemistry, which I have to say Ella already appears to have with several of the players. Nevertheless, the praise is welcomed as I appreciate hard work and initiative being noticed.

After getting the rundown, we break into groups of our respective positions to do some drill work with specific coaches. Once we have spent a good forty-five minutes on that, we split into teams for a quick scrimmage. Included on my team are Ali and Ella, playing opposite Emma Berglund and Marta. We also have midfielder Therese Sjögran to their Sara Gunnarsdóttir of Iceland. For thirty minutes, we play an intense game and I realize how much harder it is to direct a backline I am unfamiliar with. There are a few sloppy plays and lack of communication, but overall we are able to hold our own and get some good attacks in their box. All-in-all it's a good scrimmage and I come away learning a few things about myself and my teammates.

As we pack up to head to the gym, I overhear Ella and Riley making plans to get together for an evening of dinner at our place sometime soon.

"What are you signing me up for?" I ask suspiciously, butting into their conversation.

"Well, your lovely wife and I were just discussing a brilliant idea," the defender offers. "I mean, it's good to get to know each other and connect. It will improve our on field chemistry."

I glance at Ella, whose eyes are daring me to refuse, and I just chuckle. "I totally agree. I just wanted to make sure I still have some say over these things. You know, it being my house, too, and all." I chance a look at my wife, but she effectively ignores my comment.

"So, it's settled then?"

"Yep, sounds like it," Ella confirms.

"Great! Let me know what day works for you and what I can bring. I'd hate to be a rude house guest," Ali directs toward me. Am I getting a reputation of being a hard-ass or something? What's going on here?

"I look forward to it. See you around, Ali." Ella waves as we start to leave.

"Just so you know, you asked for this. I take no responsibility if you end up regretting it," I warn Ali.

"Don't listen to her. We're perfectly pleasant people."

"Whatever you say, Ella. Consider me warned, Erin." She grabs the helmet off her bike and turns to us once more. "Oh, and happy birthday, by the way." With a smile, she climbs on and pedals away.

"You told people!" I accuse.

Defensive eyes look back and me and Ella shrugs. "I didn't tell. You know it's not exactly a secret. What with social media and wikipedia."

I roll my eyes, but reluctantly nod, knowing she's right.

 

**

 

Later, after weights at the gym and an afternoon at home, Ella and I are snuggled on the couch in the living room. I'm enjoying the downtime and reveling in her closeness. Perfect evening. Perking up, Ella apparently has a sudden idea.

"You should open your presents now," she exclaims excitedly.

I laugh at her vehemence. "Okay. I'd be up for that, I guess."

She darts to the bedroom and returns in under a minute, toting a wrapped package and a gift bag and what appears to be an envelope.

"Start with these," she directs with an indication to the gifts in her left hand. I take them and begin opening.

The first is a book that I had heard of recently and mentioned wanting to read maybe once or twice. "Wow, this is great. Thanks for remembering, babe." I'm genuinely blown away that a comment in passing had stuck with her. That or she ordered it right then and there and I hadn't noticed.

With a smile, she politely tells me to go on to the next one.

Inside the bag is a new set of art supplies I have been low on - pencils, paints, and other small, miscellaneous items. This woman speaks my love language alright.

"Okay, now those are the 'real' gifts. This one is a bonus and actually kind of for me." A shy grin tugs on the corner of her lips as she hands me the envelope.

I quirk an eyebrow as I receive it. My interest is piqued. What I pull out of the envelope is simply a picture of a lion that seems to have been printed off the internet. Okay, now I'm even more confused. "Ella, what is this?"

"It's kind of a symbol of sorts."  Classically skirting the topic.

"What? You aren't getting me a lion are you?" I feign fright at the thought, pulling back and placing my hand over my chest.

She laughs, giving it extra mirth. "No. But, I've been thinking about getting another tattoo." I silently urge her on. "Well, I want you to draw it. It doesn't have to be based off this picture, but just so you know this isn't the whole thing. I want to add more to it."

Designing something to permanently be marked on her body - that's a bit of pressure. We have our matching _love_ tattoos on our left ring fingers, but this is much bigger; more intricate. Is she sure? I decide to ask.

"You really trust me to not fuck it up?"

"Erin, I implicitly trust you with this and so much more. I've seen your work quite a lot," she winks. "I want something of you on me forever. And there is meaning behind it of course, but we can get to that another time. If you want me to watch and make sure I approve, that's fine. Or I could just take a picture in to have the artist there use as a guideline if you aren't comfortable with this."

"Where do you want it?" Of course I won't say no. I really do want to do this for her, and me if I'm being honest. It will be a good project to work on. "And what's the rest you want to add?"

Excitement lights Ella's face and I can see her physically relax. She animatedly explains, "I want it on my left arm, starting at the shoulder and filling my upper arm. Then, I'm thinking I'll add lilies wrapping along bottom of the lion's head and going down my elbow. So, a sleeve, I guess."

"Right here, eh?" I ask, reaching out and stroking the places she indicated. "That will look really nice. It sounds like you've thought a lot about this. I hope I can do it justice."

"I have faith in you, hun."

"Thanks for that. And thank you for a truly great birthday. Maybe thirty-three won't be too bad." I stand up to join her, giving her a kiss. My right hand continues to trail up and down the spot on her left arm. Feelings of gratitude and overwhelming love come over me as I continue to kiss my wife. I place my free hand on the back of her head, Ella's hands teasing at my hips, and deepen the kiss with added passion. Too soon, she pulls away, breathless.

"I thought it was your birthday. You held up your end of our earlier bargain, shouldn't I be treating you?" She tries to take over, but I hold my ground.

"You'll get your chance. Promise." There's no argument, only hungry longing and deep love. "This just means you'll have to prove what you can do," I smirk.

And she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will get back to the hints I made at Ella's mood in the beginning of this chapter. I had originally intended it to be in this installment, but it ended up being longer than I meant. There might be an update sooner this time :)  
> Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave feedback!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was somewhat difficult for me to write. Took a couple days to get it finished and push through to the hard part. It's also longer than I thought it would be.

It's the next day and, after a morning run that Ella quite enjoyed and I could have done without, I sit at the kitchen table looking through my phone. There is only so long I can go without addressing my friends' and family's texts, tweets, and Instagram posts. Yesterday I barely looked at my phone. Now, as I have nothing else to attend to until this afternoon's training session, I'm weeding through the notifications to find the ones important to me; ones from people I love. There are comments from about half the National Team, my family, some former Houston teammates, friends from back home, the list goes on.

Scrolling through text messages, I come across one in particular that catches my eye, choosing to open it first. The text preview shows there is media attached, so I curiously tap the screen. A picture from my Penn State days stares back at me with a message added, reading 'Too bad you aren't as cool as you were back then. Not that you were or ever will be as cool as me ;) Happy Birthday, E, love ya. Don't party too hard!'

I actually laugh out loud as I write back. 'Thanks for the flashback, and the love, Kriegy ;)'. It might be an ungoldly early hour for her, but I vindictively, secretly, hope it wakes her up. We might never have been the closest, but usually we try to keep in somewhat regular contact.

"What's so funny," Ella asks, entering the kitchen, Max trailing in after.

"Oh, you know. Just college friends being...well, Krieger."

She looks at me with a questioning look, lacking the context needed.

"I'm going through birthday messages that I didn't get to yesterday," I explain. "Ali sent me this." Flipping my phone around, I hold it up for Ella to see. She considers it for a few seconds and shrugs, smirking.

"Well, she's not wrong," my sassy, supposedly supportive, wife teases.

"Like you're one to talk." Max walks over and sits at my feet, asking for attention. When I lean down to pet him, he eagerly licks my hand. "At least Maxwell still thinks I'm cool," I say, unable to keep the bitterness from Ella's betrayal out of my voice.

"Wait, back up." She looks daggers at me. "What do you mean I'm not one to talk? I'm cool," Ella rebuts.

"Okay, if you want to think that," my sentence hangs, suspended.

"Okay, well, if I'm not cool, why was Sophie texting me yesterday instead of you?" that smug look challenges me.

"She what?" I thumb through the many texts, seeing several from my Canadian teammates, but not coming across anything from the queen of clumsiness herself. "That's unbelievable. Why was she texting my wife on my birthday and not me?" I shoot in an accusatory tone. Not that it really bothers me, but my competitive nature kicks into drive sometimes and it becomes a game to me. Ella knows this about me and occasionally plays along, like in this instance.

"I guess she must just have good taste in friends," Ella says with an air of finality. And I want to wipe the superior expression off her arrogant face. Instead, I choke out a single, derisive laugh.

I arch an eyebrow, and then try to dismiss the situation. "Knowing Sophie, she probably just forgot what yesterday was. It wouldn't be the first time she slipped up, even if I never forget her birthday."

"Yeah, maybe that was it," Ella says in a would-be appeasing voice. She turns, grabbing a glass of water and I turn my attention back to my other texts from other well wishers. When Ella sits at the table with me, it's with a barely concealed smile. "Oh, and Soph said to wish you happy birthday for her yesterday. I don't know - if - did you want to know that? Should I have said something sooner?" Her grin, which I now notice isn't quite reaching her eyes, broadens.

"You jerk," I mumble, mildly bitter. "It's a good thing you're cute." Ella laughs. "But, I'm gonna have words with Sophie. Using a middleman...unbelievable."

"Do what you gotta do." My wife shrugs, taking a sip of her water. When the glass touches her lips, she winces, puts her fingers to her temple tenderly.

"Headache?" I ask, concerned. She nods. "Do you need aspirin? Maybe you're dizzy and just need to eat something. Want me to make you some food?" My protectiveness is kicking in. These headaches have been happening for a couple months, off and on. Some conversations have been had, but overall Ella tries to play it down, pretend it's no big deal, and effectively pushes me away a little every time.

"No, I'm fine. I'm really not hungry, actually." Another drink, another wince. "Okay, maybe I'll take the aspirin," she concedes.

I go to the cabinet to get a couple pills and subtly close the door she left open when getting water. Handing them over, I lean it to place a kiss to her temple.

Maxwell, nearly as concerned as I am and ever faithful, climbs onto her lap and snuggles in.

She hums her thanks, possibly not able to muster much more at the moment, mindlessly stroking Max's fur. And it's breaking my heart just a little, our previous banter all but forgotten.

 

**

 

By the time training comes around in the afternoon, Ella's headache seems to have subsided and she is acting more herself. Currently laughing with Ali Riley and trying to draw Emma into their shenanigans, wasting no time in acquainting a new team to her awkward and unique ways, she appears to have recovered some of her charismatic charm since earlier.

I smile to myself and laugh across the locker room any time they direct something towards me. It comforts me seeing her joking and laughing with the girls, but nevertheless I am also slightly baffled at the swift mood changes she exhibits on days like this. Almost like there's a switch in her head she flips from time to time. That, or Ella has become exceptionally good at acting and hiding her hurt under gleaming eyes and a dimpled grin. I wouldn't put the latter outside the realm of possibility...or probability.

We both know I tend to be an emotional person - a worrier; and so I know she tries to keep me from getting worried when she can. Something we've both worked on since we met. I try to worry less, but make sure she knows I do it because I care, while she in turn, has let me in more than most anyone else and has learned to fully trust me. I don't take that lightly. However, given what I know about her, I idly wonder if there is someone else she might have talked to about this recently. You know, just to keep my blood pressure down, but not realizing I'm getting more anxious that I can't read her thoughts and know how to help.

I decide to act on my fleeting musings, and unlock my phone, searching. Finding the name I'm seeking in my contacts, I send a new message.

'Hey, has Ella talked to you recently about...anything?' I hope that's not too vague, but also just unassuming enough in case she hadn't reached out. I'd hate to start an inquiry. One I'm not comfortable giving answers to if Ella hasn't volunteered information.

Unwilling to put my phone down, I stare as I wait for a reply, only looking away to sneak glances in Ella's direction where she is still enjoying herself. Once, she catches my eye, gives a questioning look (probably reading my tense expression), and I muster what I hope to be a genuine smile. It apparently worked, because Ella seems to accept it and smiles back at me before continuing on, now dancing with several of the girls to the music from Marta's phone.

I smile again, momentarily content, and turn back to my waiting screen. _Come on, Em,_ I think when I see she still hasn't read my text.

Not thirty second later (although it feels much longer) _typing..._ pops at the bottom of the message box. A few more agonizing seconds go by.

'No...I mean, we talked not long ago, I guess, but not about anything in particular. What's up? Is anything wrong with her? Or you?'

I release a frustrated sigh. The defeat is there again, the helpless feeling that I'm failing in my basic vows as a wife. If she didn't talk to Emily about it, one of her oldest friends who knows her almost better than I do sometimes, I don't know who she would have turned to. Maybe one of her sisters? I doubt that, though; she wouldn't want to scare them anymore than she wants to scare me. Resigning myself to the fact that I'll have to talk to Ella about this, I reply back to Zurrer.

'Okay, thanks. It's nothing to worry about, just wondering.' I send it, knowing she likely won't accept that answer.

'Are you sure?'

'Yeah, Em. It's good. Talk later, yeah?'

'Alright, Erin. Let me know if there's anything I can do.' I should have known better than to think I'd get away with shrugging it off. Even over text. Emily's smart enough to suspect something must be up or I wouldn't have randomly texted like that.

'Will do.' Hopefully she leaves it at that. I make a mental note to have Ella call her whenever we get around to discussing what's really going on.

Emily doesn't send any more replies and I put my phone back in my bag.

"Erin, you gonna join us or what? Stop being all antisocial," Ali calls over to me.

"Uh, sure. What are we doing?"

"Bonding," she answers in an it-should-be-obvious sort of way.

"I guess I can do that," I shrug, laughing quietly.

"Don't let her fool you. She can weird it up with the best of y'all," Ella says, dragging me to the group.

"Y'all, huh?" Riley laughs.

"Yeah, you got a problem with that? I did live in Houston for two years."

Ali laughs even harder. "No problem. It's cute."

I offer Ella a smirk and enjoy the ease of teasing along with a new, diverse group of people. She shrugs it off, not being bothered by the playful banter. I shake my head to myself and fall in step with the lighthearted atmosphere of the locker room.

 

**

 

I sit on the couch, singing quietly with my music, starting on the artwork design for Ella's tattoo, while she sits sideways next to me with her back against the arm, wearing leggings and one of my t-shirts. This is what I love. We're content being silently in each other's company. I know Ella enjoys watching me sketch and Max enjoys his place snuggled in the niche created by her legs, my side, and the back of the couch. A happy family, a perfect night after a day off.

It's been two days since Saturday's training and my text conversation with Emily Zurrer. I broached the topic with Ella that night, but she refused to talk about it in depth and insisted it had just been a headache which had gone away with the pain meds. Even though I didn't believe her for one second, I had dropped it, deciding that pushing it might just cause worse problems for her and subsequently me. She'll talk when she's ready, and if she doesn't, only then will I push it so whatever it is doesn't eat her up from the inside out. Since there have been no other incidents since then, though, I've continued to leave it alone for the time being.

I mean, its not like we haven't discussed it before at all. Ella has had these (and other) symptoms pop up since December, and there have been many conversations. But, it behaves oddly and comes in random phases making it hard to predict, even to herself, so sometimes she doesn't want to talk about it. I think she thinks it makes her weak and she can just let it pass without actually dealing with it. Thankfully, that seems to actually work for the most part, but I can't help feel it's just a waiting game, a timebomb of sorts. That there will come a time when she needs more. More than me. More than her prayers and faith, as much as those give her strength.

As I sit peacefully, with my wife contentedly by my side, I feel like everything is back to normal. We had dinner together earlier, took Max for a walk, spent some time playing music, talked about our looming season and the differences in this league; we laughed, remembered past clubs, and compared that to difficulties in adjusting to a new group and style of play.

We ultimately settled on agreeing with the idea that brought us here: that it would be a good experience and teach us to work harder and be better. That realizing this dream of mine, that Ella willingly and faithfully followed me into, is worth getting to know new tactics and training styles.

All of that, though, was just the calm before the storm. The normality of the last couple days was just leading to this moment, which might - from the outside looking in - appear innocuous at first.

Ella puts her feet on my lap and I brush them off. It's distracting. She chuckles and nudges my thigh with her toe.

"El, please," I huff. "Not now. I can't concentrate with your distractions." I don't want even the slightest change in environment to mess up my work. Her work, really.

She pulls her legs away, tucking them into her body, as she sits up. I can practically hear her roll her eyes.

"You're no fun."

I allow myself a peek over. "Come on. Really? Need I remind you I'm in the middle of designing an awesome lion to be permanently tattooed onto _your_ body?"

This time I see the eye roll. "No, you don't. And I appreciate it, honey." She leans in to kiss me on the cheek. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I absently kiss the air in her direction, turning back to face my paper.

"Thank you." A couple minutes pass in silence. I feel badly for snapping at Ella. "Hun, why don't you grab the guitar and I'll turn my music off while you play?" I suggest.

"Yeah, okay. I'll do that." I feel the rustling of the couch, and see in my peripheral her adjusting to get up.

But, before she even stands, Ella halts and raises her hand to her chest. Her breathing hitches and I falter in my work. I watch as she begins struggling for every breath, trying desperately to inhale correctly. Instead, every inhale is labored, every breath a fight, which only causes panic making it harder and harder for her to breathe.

 _Oh, no. Not this._ I freeze, scrutinizing her every action. Shaking her head back and forth, and eyes widening in fear, Ella continues to clutch at her chest. She is in pain. She can't breathe. And I have no fucking clue what to do. I hate it; being paralyzed and completely helpless. I've witnessed a few of these "attacks" and am always at just as much of a loss as I am now.  My wife pounds her sternum twice as if willing air to flow into her lungs.

Eventually, painfully slowly, maybe fifteen seconds later, I regain composure and slide off the couch. I fall, kneeling, to the ground in front of her, hands cupping her knees. At this point she's doubled over.

"Tell me how to help, Ella. Baby, what can I do for you?"

"No-thing," comes the choked reply, between half breaths. She angrily shakes her head, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "God! It hurts."

"I know." I'm dangerously close to tears myself, but I can't let Ella see that. She suddenly stands, brushes past me, and begins pacing around the living room. I nervously sit still, racking my brain for anything I can do. Meanwhile, Ella goes over to the window to crack it open, seeking fresh air. She begins attempting measured, deep breaths, searching for the relief her lungs so desperately need. After three, then four failed attempts, she frustratedly gives up with an exasperated yell. Why is she wasting unnecessary oxygen? If I could give her mine, I would in a heartbeat.

"Why?! Why now?" I know the rhetorical question isn't directed to me, so I remain silent.

 _Screw it,_ I think. In a last ditch effort, I cross the room to wrap her in my arms protectively. When she squirms and pounds her fists into my chest, pushing me away, I bite back the tears threatening to spill over. I know it's nothing personal, but it feels like comforting is the only thing I have, and I can't even do that right. Eyes closed tight, Ella holds me at arms' length. I risk a second try and wrap my fingers around her wrists, forcing them gently down. This time when I step into her, she only weakly struggles, and allows me to pull her into a firm, but not constricting, hug.

"Shh, shh," I soothe. "I have you. You're safe. Deep breaths." I breathe intentionally, slowly, pacing her breathing. "Deep breaths. One, two."

I begin to hum into her hair, rubbing slow circles over her back, and I feel her melt into me releasing the build-up of tears as she falls apart in my arms. Her breathing has steadied, her head is buried in my chest as her body shakes with silent sobs. It's an uncharacteristic show of emotion from Ella, and I make sure she doesn't notice the lump in my throat or the tears undoubtedly leaving tracks on my face as I hold my broken, hurting wife.

A few minutes later Ella withdraws her head from my chest and wipes her eyes, sighing heavily. She lifts her gaze to meet my concerned one.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles. "I'm so sorry I pushed you and tried to refuse when you were just trying to help." I can see the welling in her eyes, hear the quiver in her voice.

"Shh, don't. It's okay. I'm not offended. You were hurting and scared." I can't keep the pain out of my own voice. "I know you weren't mad at me. Besides, there will be a time when I need you to lean on. We give and take. That's a relationship - a marriage."

A tender smile graces Ella's face as she looks deeply into my eyes. "Thank you, Erin. For being my rock, my constant. For never giving up on me. I just get so frustrated with myself sometimes, you know? With the things like that," she makes a sweeping motion toward the room, "that I can't control."

"I know, I really do." I pull her into my arms again before releasing her. When I do, I look her straight in the eyes. "Hey, do you think maybe you should talk to someone? Figure out what's going on? Maybe you can get help that I can't give you. Help that will prevent this from happening again. Or at least can assist you, and me, in dealing with it better when it does."

For a moment I'm afraid she might reject the idea, being too afraid to admit there is a bigger, unseen problem. But, Ella nods slowly before answering. "Yeah, I think that might be a good idea. I mean, it's scary. You know I have a hard time asking for help. But, I'm sick of this. I can't keep it up. Pretending I'm fine, faking a smile, hiding it from you when I know you see right through me. It's too much. Too exhausting."

I sigh in relief and smile at her. "I don't want you to have to hide it. That is way too big of a burden. And I don't think I can take idly sitting by on the sidelines anymore, feeling like everything I should be able to do doesn't make a difference."

A pained look enters her eyes. I didn't mean to accuse her of hurting me. Why did I open my mouth?

"You're right, I haven't been fair to you."

"Ella, please, I didn't m-"

"No, it's okay. I've been leaving you stranded and this does involve you. I have to remember that my problems are yours now too, as much as I try to pretend otherwise. In trying to protect you from my pain, I only caused you more." The silent tears are starting again, and I reach out my thumb to stem the flow.

"Listen, we'll figure this out. I will be by your side the whole way, every step along the path. I promise." I try to convey all of my love and loyalty into those few sentences.

Ella smiles tentatively. "I don't deserve you, you know. How could I be this lucky?"

"You got that backwards, babe."

She reaches up and gives me one of the purest kisses I've ever received. It's a promise, a pact that we will get through this and come out stronger on the other side.

"I love you. So much, honey."

"I love you, too."

"I'm gonna go wash up and collect myself," Ella says before walking into the bathroom.

"Okay." I smile. "Oh, and you should probably call Em at some point." In the split second of silence, I cringe, waiting for her admonition.

"Why would I need to call Emily?" she asks, slowly peeking her head around the bathroom door, suspicion coloring her voice.

"I might have texted her Saturday when I could tell something was up and you weren't talking to me about it." Her eyes narrow. I hasten on. "I didn't tell her anything about what you were dealing with. Hell, I didn't even know! I just wondered if you had confided in someone else. I think she's worried now." I meekly look at her, a silent plea to keep me out of trouble.

A genuinely irritated sigh, maybe slightly tinged with fear, escapes Ella's lips. "Fine, Erin, fine. I'll talk to her and ease her worries."

Yeah, she definitely didn't want more people involved in this. I look down at Maxwell, who's looking curiously up at me, head cocked to one side. Clearly this whole ordeal is confusing him.

"Mama isn't happy with me, Max. I messed up." He yips at me and joins Ella in the bathroom.

Great, no one's on my side. Except maybe Em.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This setting and particular scene are entirely fictional. I know Ella suffered and still suffers from anxiety, so I wanted to show that in some way. For all I know, at this point she had already gotten help and had the diagnosis. But, I really wanted to include this part of the story because it's something I experienced a year ago, so I drew from that. I hope I did it justice.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to any and all that have been waiting on an update for now over a month! I was in the middle of and stuck on this chapter for about a week and finally was able to keep going and finish. Hopefully it's worth the wait :)

"Erin, you ready yet?" I hear Ella's voice travel down the hallway.

"Not quite. Give me a minute," I answer, placing a long necklace over my chest.

"Okay. But, I don't want to miss the reservation."

After the low-key day that was my birthday, Ella decided to plan a nice dinner out with some of our teammates for a late celebration. Even though I didn't care, I think she felt guilty for not planning anything special last week. So, today she surprised me with the announcement that we would be going out tonight and I should "wear something nice".

Taking a last look in the mirror and running the brush through my hair once more, I feel satisfied with the final product. I open the door and exit the bathroom.

"How is this? Am I presentable enough?" I question teasingly.

I catch Ella's eyes trailing over my body. From my hair draped over both shoulders; to the v-necked, simple black dress; down to, yes, the short heels I chose to complete the ensemble.

Her lips gather into an upward curve at one corner, a dimple appearing there. My favorite smile. "I'll say. And, if I haven't told you before, you clean up good." She winks and turns, opening the apartment door under the pretense of having to get out before we are late.

I grab a light jacket from the entry closet because of the nippiness still lingering this time of year.

"Bye Max. Be good while we're out, or you will have me to answer to," I admonish, aiming a stern look toward the little dog at my feet. With a tilted head and pleading eyes, Maxwell truly looks as if he is heeding my warning. "Oh, who am I kidding? I could never stay mad at you." I laugh and bend to pat his head before he turns and wanders off.

I close and lock the door behind me as I hurry to catch up with my wife.

When I draw even with her, matching her steps, I lean into her shoulder. "Thanks for the compliment back there."

"I wouldn't say it if it weren't true." Ella flashes a grin and pecks my cheek quickly, which brings a smile to my face. I love her and her honesty. It makes compliments that much more special and meaningful.

My right hand finds the small of her back, beginning to guide our descent downstairs.

"Well, I appreciate it, nonetheless."

Now that I have had a chance to see Ella, I'm taking in her appearance. Her hair is done as usual, down but pinned and pulled over her left shoulder; she's wearing a simple dress as well, that goes past the knee, paired nicely with black boots.

"Liking the view?"

"I am, in fact. I hope you know I still consider myself the lucky one...to be seen out with you. Getting dressed up on a Wednesday night is fun. Let's do this thing!"

Ella's laugh echoes through the empty entrance to our building, where we have reached the bottom of the stairs. "'This thing'. Okay, well let's do it," she teases, uncharacteristically taking my hand in hers before walking out in public.

The grin I previously had in place now broadens.

 

**

 

About halfway through dinner, I'm enjoying my evening of conversation and laughter, when I notice Ella - across from me - discreetly, and briefly, discussing something with the waiter. He nods and walks away. _What is she planning?_

I have little time to wonder, though, as I get caught up in conversation again. Topics of family, past soccer experiences, collegiate years, and many things in between circle around the group table. Without a doubt, this is my favorite team moment since being here (albeit, one missing several Rosengård members). Getting to know these few better - people who have been little more than strangers to me up until now, but are quickly becoming my friends - puts me in the lightest of moods.

It isn't long before Ali leans over to get my and Ella's attention from a few seats down.

"So, when do I get to take you two up on that dinner offer? I mean, it's been like five days since Ella first asked." Ali's hint is fully sarcastic, complete with a teeth-bared grin.

Ella laughs at her and starts to answer, but I cut in.

"This is it. We agreed to dinner. What would you call this?" I deadpan, trying to scare my new defender a bit.

"Erin. No." From the seat opposite me, I can feel Ella's glare and see her shake her head. "She's kidding. This is an entirely different thing."

"Oh, I know, don't worry," the brunette replies. Although, she does stick her tongue playfully at me. "Besides, I believe I was promised soccer and home cooking."

"I never heard about the soccer part," I defend myself.

"Well, it's happening, McLeod," Ali verifies. "And I expect you to bring your cooking game to make up for what you tried to claim."

"You're on. Not to brag or anything, but I am an excellent cook," I answer cockily.

Ella sighs, signifying that she has given up on the pair of us.

Movement to my right grabs my attention and I notice three restaurant staff members coming over with a dessert topped with sparklers.

_So that's what Ella was up to._

I give her an apprehending look and she answers simply with a smile and wink.

The dish now placed in front of me, our table - led by Ella - begins a chorus of Happy Birthday, joined by the servers. An involuntary, though not unwelcome, grin spreads itself across my face as I take this moment in. Surrounded by my love and these new teammates I feel truly happy and blessed.

I mouth a thank you to Ella, who nods and tells me to dig in. Which I do, reveling in this evening.

 

**

 

"Thank you for tonight. It was just a really good time."

Before climbing the steps, I bend down then straighten and sweetly press my lips to Ella's forehead. "You love me so well."

"I learned from the best," she states.

I widen my eyes in feigned shock and point questioningly at my chest. Her answering chuckle draws a smirk from me.

"Yes you, you goof." Ella loops her hand through my proffered right arm and we ascend the staircase.

"You know, if you wore those more often, you'd be more used to them," she hints, referencing the heels I have slung over my other shoulder. "Maybe even make it all the way home with them still on."

"But they hurt my feet," I complain with a whine. "Besides, you're the one who claims I never wear heels. At least I wore them for dinner."

"I'll give you that," concedes Ella. For a brief moment, she lays her head on my shoulder. "I'm glad you had a good time, Erin. You look really nice tonight."

"As opposed to?"

"No, I didn't mean...not like that." Flustered Ella is one of my favorites. I can't help taking an opportunity to see her when one presents itself. "You know I always think you're breathtaking in your beauty, honey."

"Thanks, El. I do know."  A pause.  "Pink looks good on you," I tease.

She smacks my arm and steps away from me to unlock the door, which Max is patiently waiting at. I follow her in and she greets the dog.

"Hey Max, buddy. Did you have a good night, too?" His little tail wags while Ella pets him.

Exhaustion rolls off of her and my senses detect a subtle shift in the atmosphere of the room. Slipping past the two of them, I set my shoes in the closet and proceed to enter the bedroom.

"I'm just gonna change and take Max out before bed. Get comfy. I'll be up in fifteen."

Stifling a yawn, Ella nods. "Okay. I, uh, I might be in bed."

"Sounds perfect." I pull off my dress, exchanging it for a comfortable change of clothes. "Kiss?" I lean in.

With a soft smile, she complies. Just a brush of her lips on mine. She pulls back, gently patting my collar bone, and I gather Max's leash and doggy sweater before heading out.

 ~

Precisely a quarter of an hour later, feeling pretty proud of my timing, I walk into the entry. I open our bedroom door a crack to let Maxwell in, then go down the hall to brush my teeth.

When I join my wife and dog after a couple minutes, I hear a muffled sniffle and catch Ella wiping at her eyes.

Hurriedly, I jump into bed next to her. "Whoa whoa whoa. What's wrong? What happened?" Was there another "attack" and I wasn't here to provide support? I know I haven't been entirely forgiven for bringing Emily into this, and I desperately hope whatever happened in the last fifteen minutes wasn't my fault. I am internally kicking myself for leaving her up here alone.

She forces a sardonic laugh through a feeble smile. "Million dollar question right there."

"How do you mean?"

"Nothing. Nothing happened. I don't even know. It's just..."

I pull her into my side and feel her take a few shuddering breaths.

As she regains control of her emotions, I try again. "Just tell me what was going on while I was out."

"All that happened really was I thought about next week. I looked over our schedule and plans and was trying to decide on a day for Ali to come over." _Okay, that doesn't seem too bad._ "Then, I remembered fans really want more Ella and Erin Show this season. We'll have to come up with guests and how to set it up. I don't even know if anyone here will want to do it."

Before she can keep going, I squeeze her shoulder in comfort. "Babe, you're stressing yourself out. Take some deep breaths and try to step back from it for a minute."

"I just, I don't get why I react like this to it. It's so...so frustrating, you know?"

If Ella knew how much seeing her this hurt broke my heart...but I am not about to tell her. "I don't know either, honey. Tomorrow we should get closer to some answers though," I remind her, referencing the therapist appointment.

A flash of something resembling fear crosses Ella's features and I realize I touched on the real root of tonight's stress.

"Erin, I just. I'm a little scared about that. When I thought about it and actually put myself in that mindset, I got anxious."

It's like a light bulb flicks on in my head. I suck in my breath and angle myself so I face her directly. "Wait. Say that again."

Ella's features shift to confusion and she raises an eyebrow. "Um, yeah, I'm kind of scared I guess."

I vigorously shake my head at her misunderstanding. "No. what you said right after that. The word you used." I want her to make the leap herself.

Her eyes calculating, I see her try to remember exactly what she just said. She shrugs and answers. "It made me anxious?"

"Yeah, that. Do you see it? I think that's it, El. Maybe it's anxiety that you have been dealing with."

"Oh." The dawning realization lights in her now-understanding eyes. I can't be too sure, but it seems as though she's breathing a little easier. Like a burden has been lifted off her mind.

Now laying on my back, I pat the sheets next to me. "Come here."

Ella positions herself so she is molded to my body. She sighs in audible relief. "Sorry I'm ruining the end of such a great night," she tearily laughs.

"You are doing no such thing." I tilt my head down for a kiss, which she readily meets me for. The kiss lingers for several seconds. When she snuggles back in, I wrap my arms securely around her.

"Do you want me to sing or anything?"

"Yes, please." Her voice is small and my heart swells as I begin singing a soothing tune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS Thanks to Maya for the encouragement and help with getting my motivation back.  
> I'm hoping to be back on a more regular "schedule" of updating.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a fairly long update. Some important stuff goes on, more to come in the next chapter. I'm going to try to update again sometime during the week.  
> I don't mean to end all of them so emotionally...sorry for that. Next one will be better :)

The season is looming now more than ever, with the first game just a couple weeks out. And here I am, jittery while waiting in the hall of the practice facility after the rest of the team has departed.  Practice ended almost an hour ago and I've had time to cool down, shower, change, and pace. A lot of pacing. A lot of worrying. A lot of trying hard not to worry.  


It feels like an eternity is dragging by.

_Why is it taking so long? I wish I could be in there. Is this thing broken? Can it really have only been 90 seconds since I last glanced at my watch?_

In reality, I know I haven't even been waiting twenty-five minutes. Not that there is any use trying to convince my brain and nerves of that fact.

Finally, slowly, the door opens.

Her back to me, Ella says "Thank you, see you next week," before closing the door after herself. But not without me catching the team therapist reminding her that that's a promise.

"So?" I question concernedly.

"So...what?" she counters, trying to appear nonchalant. It's not working on me, I can see right through that facade.

"How did it go? What did he say? I've been a nervous wreck waiting out here."

"Can we, um...can we maybe talk about it at home?" Ella's eyes flick up and down the hall even though we are totally alone. Her fear of being caught vulnerable, discussing anything personal, undoubtedly holding her back. "I don't really feel like talking here."

She's visibly fatigued and seems to be barely functioning, like the strain of putting on that mask she has been donning of late has drained her absolutely. "I'm ready to go. I'm assuming you are, too. Did you get my bag?"

Suspicion settles in, but I cast around for what I hope to be a casually concerned look, stopping it from making its presence known on my features. Hopefully nothing more than we suspected is going on and Ella's simply waiting for a more private location to have this conversation. Either way, I know better than to push it right now.

"Yep, right here." I shrug my shoulder toward her to reveal her practice bag.

"Thanks. Then let's get out of here."

Obediently, I follow my wife down the hall that leads to the exit.

 

**

 

  
The cab ride home is quiet, as per usual. In the short time I've been here, sometimes I feel it would be better if we had our own car here, and now is one of those times.  Just the freedom to privately talk as we please is something I'm craving right now while I watch Ella absentmindedly - or maybe too absorbedly - stare out her window. The urge to pull her, coax her, from her thoughts is currently strong in me and it is killing me to wait even the eight minutes it takes to get home. Hasn't she suffered this alone long enough already? Or am I just selfishly feeling out of the loop of her inner thoughts?

Knowing she doesn't particularly like physical displays of affection in public, I try to refrain from comforting her or talking to her in this moment. Try, but don't necessarily succeed.

I let my right hand fall, palm upward on the middle seat closer to Ella's side than mine. Caught by the rustling sound, her eyes shift without her moving her head. She takes note of my hand's position but quickly averts her gaze again, her expression telling me nothing. Only that she clearly is processing whatever information I have yet to be privy to.

"Ella?" Nothing.

My hand slides a little closer and I extend my finger to nudge her left leg. For a second I breathe a little easier seeing her head turn minutely and her hand starting to move. 

However, she simply pinches my index finger wordlessly between her thumb and forefinger, lifts my arm, and places my hand on my own lap. 

A grimace pulls at my mouth even as I'm trying to not let it get to me. I know it isn't personal, that she just likes her space, but it still hurts a little. Not to mention it sends a stab of heartbreak though me to watch her withdraw and so obviously feel alone.

I fold my hands together on my lap and lean my head against the headrest. Ella gives me a brief half-hearted apologetic smile, but otherwise keeps her expression very much the same. And that's the most reaction I get from her before the cab pulls up outside our building.

 

**

 

  
I toss the bags of dirty practice clothes into the bedroom when we walk in the door. Arms weighted at her sides, Ella slouches in behind me, face as blank as before with the only sign of life being the color changes in her eyes indicating the wheels turning over in her head excessively. 

The silent processing is torturing, no, killing me. Physically killing a part of my protective nature. That part, very predominant as of late, that wants nothing more than to wrap my wife in my arms tightly enough to hold all of her broken pieces in place; long enough that those pieces start to fuse back together and heal.

But again I refrain, because I can clearly see she isn't ready. She's still in her bubble of personal safety and, like a frightened animal, would only retreat further if I attempted to pop it too early.

I wish desperately that I could be enough for her right now. Being happy, being together. Usually that _is_ enough, however this is something bigger and stronger than that. Some demon is weighing her down and Ella needs some time to face it herself. All I can do is hope it doesn't take long before she grants me access so I can resume my place as her rock, as she so often reminds me I am.

Right now, that role just looks a little different. By listening to her unspoken signals, giving her the time she needs, I'm remaining that solid foundation and support as best I can. Even if it takes everything in me to not ignore said signals and tear down those walls with my bare hands.

Without a word, Ella makes her way to the living room couch while I head into the kitchen. An afternoon practice and staying late has pushed us out until dinnertime. And despite my concern, my stomach knows it.

"Honey, what do you want for dinner? I'll make whatever you like. The fridge is pretty stocked right now."

"Not hungry," comes the short, distracted reply.

Ordinarily, Ella's appetite doesn't quit. She will eat her weight in just about anything and then push herself to her limits, and past them, at the gym with a tenacity the likes of which you've never seen before turning it into muscle. The rigorous workouts make her hungrier and the cycle starts over again. It's never ending and one of the things I admire most about her - her sheer determination and refusal to waste anything. She actually fuels her body...to fuel it. To keep her active. To keep her going.

Over the last few months, though, each time she slumps into this darkness a diminished appetite is one of the side effects. She and I have both noticed the shedding of a couple pounds here and there, even though she's always been at a healthy athletic weight and size. It has been cause for some concern.

"You sure?" I double-check.

"Maybe later."

The thing is, Ella isn't fooling me. I know she only says that to try to appease my qualms that she didn't eat enough today. Later, she still won't be hungry. And those two words strike in me an awe that, as shut off as she currently is, there's an unselfishness in her to make sure I don't become more worried than I already am. _She's_ protecting _me_.

Closing the fridge without grabbing anything myself, I instead turn and exit the kitchen.

The scene that greets me is enough to melt my heart. In the last minute, Max had apparently taken it upon himself to be Ella's bodyguard in her obvious state of distress. He made sure to position himself next to her exposed side, laying curled flush against her thigh, and is on high alert as I walk into the room. Apparently he deems me to be some sort of threat to his Mama at present.  


Ella has her arms resting around Maxwell while she automatically strokes his fur. And I can't even be upset that she will let him comfort her over me. Well, perhaps a little put out, but I think I can get over it.

I take the other end of the couch and face her. My best chance at getting anywhere is to take it slowly.

We sit in silence for several minutes; Ella seeming to thaw a bit and gaining a minuscule amount of animation in her attention to the dog; and me letting her go at her own pace, for the most part.

After a bit, the laptop comes out and Ella turns the tv on to put a movie up, selecting one from her downloaded library. Undeniably, a tactic designed to distract herself further. I don't care right now. I'll take just sitting in her company and enjoying a movie, so I settle in, still being sure to keep some distance.

The evening continues in this way. Little to no communication and a somewhat uncomfortable silence. I only get up once to get myself dinner which Ella predictably still refuses.

Eventually, as the credits roll, I speak up.

"Babe?" Finally, for the first time since this afternoon, those light, unreadable eyes meet mine. Eye contact is definitely progress, so I test the waters further. "Babe, you said you wanted to talk at home. It's a safe place here. I'm here. Is there even one small part you want to start with?"

"You know what? I'm pretty tired, actually. I think I'll just grab my book and head to the room." With that she leaves down the hall, waking Max, who yawns and stretches before faithfully following after.

Maybe I didn't take it quite slowly enough. I check my watch and see that it's only 8:10. The announcement left me no room to interpret the act as anything other than what it was. A chance to be alone. Slightly stunned, I keep my eyes trained on the hall for half a minute.

This could be a long night, so I decide to pull out the drawing I'm working on for Ella's tattoo to get myself in a more relaxed state. I'll give her an hour before joining her in bed.

 ~

However, I end up losing track of time, and when I next check it is just past 10pm. My intention had not been to let this much time go by, so I push my work aside and stretch. I curl and uncurl my fingers multiple times, pumping blood to alleviate the cramping in my hand. Nearly two straight hours of outlining and detailing will do that.

The padding of paws on the hard floor reminds me that, while being too preoccupied, I have neglected my dog tonight.

"Shit," I mumble to myself. "Sorry Max, buddy. Give me a sec, I'll be right there."

I meet him at the door and slip some shoes on. Assuming Max hasn't learned how to work doorknobs, Ella must have left the door open when she turned in. At least that means she wasn't trying to keep me out. Hopefully it was merely a show of being open rather than a plea for me to have retired sooner to keep her company.

"Let's make this quick, okay."

I hurriedly take care of Maxwell. It sends a tinge of guilt through me when he doesn't require any wait time whatsoever.

Having taken note on the way out that the bedroom lights were already out, I slip in quietly so as not to wake my exhausted wife.

Ella's silhouette in the dark is unmoving, almost too much so. She is also occupying my side of the bed, presumably to render it unnecessary for me to crawl over her.

While I change into an oversized tshirt, Max hops up and hunkers himself into the crook created by my wife's slightly bent knees. When I climb in after him, I notice Ella is not in actuality asleep as I had thought even though she is facing the wall. I'm tipped off to that fact when the dip my weight creates doesn't draw the slightest movement from her. Plus, I can now tell that's she is breathing altogether too quietly for someone supposedly deeply asleep.

Careful to not crush the nestled pup with my legs, I scoot in closer with the rest of my body. My hand trails up and down Ella's arm to ease her body's tension. I feel her answering shudder and move to rest my face near the back of her head. Slinging my arm around her waist, I pull slightly closer still while leaving a small buffer of space in case it is desired. I hear her breathing change fractionally; she knows I'm aware she is awake. 

With minimal hesitation, Ella covers my left arm with hers, tucking my hand against her stomach and fingering my wedding band.

And that's all it takes for me to bury my forehead into her neck and sigh in relief. Because, even if she isn't ready to discuss things just yet and let me in emotionally, at least she will still grant me physical closeness. This act alone tells me she's recognizing that I'm still her rock, causing silent tears to slip down my cheeks into her collar.

Within moments, Ella's breaths deepen and even out. A smile plays on my lips as I hold my sleeping wife.

 

**

 

  
In a groggy state, I blink my eyes open and check the time. 2:26am.

I turn my head and see the reason I was awoken. The sheets next to me are empty. I flop on my back and press my fingers to my eyelids, working myself up to rolling out of bed.

It's chilly so I pull on a pair of sweats and walk bare-footed down the hall.

Ella is sitting cross-legged on the couch with the laptop open in front of her. A look of concentration set upon her face. Whatever she is watching holds her full attention captive.

I rub the sleep from my eyes and yawn hugely. As I walk closer, Ella looks up and offers a shy smile.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"No, don't worry about it. I wasn't really sleeping well anyway," I lie as the grogginess in my voice betrays me.

Arched eyebrows indicate Ella's suspicion that I'm not telling the truth.

"Can I join you?" I ask in a small voice, hoping this two sided interaction is indicative of her being more open.

"Of course," she assures with softened eyes. She pats the cushion next to her, welcomingly.

Without hesitation, I snuggle in, laying my head on her lap as she begins absentmindedly stroking my hair while keeping her eyes trained on the screen.

"Couldn't sleep?"

She shakes her head, no.

"What's this?" I narrow my eyes to see better what team is playing. "Man U, Ella! Really, at 2:30 in the morning?!"

"Hey, I didn't ask you to come out here and judge me for my choices. I don't have to justify my football allegiances. I couldn't sleep and needed something to do. Before I knew it, I was looking this up." 

Her defense brings a smile to my face. It might seem insignificant, but it gives me hope that she has processed what she needs to on her own and is done internalizing all her thoughts. Maybe she's ready to talk a little?

"Do your thing. I'm just resting. It was lonely in there." I thumb toward the bedroom and Ella gives a soft chuckle. Another good sign. And now my eye catches the remnants of a midnight snack. Yet another good sign.

"You weren't even awake," she mumbles, still focusing on the rerun game.

"True, but I hate waking up to an empty bed. I had to make sure you were doing alright." My admission draws Ella's attention away from screen momentarily and she looks down to meet my gaze.

"I'm okay, really Erin."

I'm feeling more confident.

"What's been on your mind?"

Ella presses pause on the game and inhales deeply before slowly releasing her breath. Resignation is there in her eyes and demeanor.

"A lot," she answers hesitantly.

Pulling myself into a sitting position, I angle my body toward her so as to be more open and accepting.

"Yeah? Like what?" I urge her forward.

"Well, okay, first I wanna say he didn't tell me anything definitive. It was only one session and he could only tell me preliminary things based off what I gave him. And second, I want this to be a real conversation we have maybe tomorrow? When we're both more well rested and awake." Here she gives pause to gauge how I feel about that.

"That's totally fine, babe. We can talk more tomorrow for sure. I just want to know...something, anything. I'm pretty good at listening," I hint with a playful wink.

That dimple that I love makes an appearance at the corner of Ella's lips where a smile is forming. "Yes, you are. And I actually want to start out by apologizing for blocking you out all evening." Her voice quakes and her eyes brim with unshed tears. She swipes them away before continuing.

"I have again been unfair to you. I just had so much to think through. I couldn't vocalize it until I even knew what I was thinking."

I reach out to wrap her hand in mine reassuringly. "You have nothing to apologize for. I understand you are going through things I don't get. I would never make you talk before you're ready." I leave out that it's been torturing me, because that will only hurt her and cause her to feel guilty. 

"Thank you. And I appreciate the space you gave me tonight. But, this is something you need to be part of. I know that.

"So, with that said, the therapist did say he can't give a diagnosis yet, but he believes the information I gave him coincides with anxiety symptoms."

After the idea first entered my head, I felt it was right, so I'm not surprised to hear it. I don't say anything though, allowing my wife to continue.

"He wants to see me again next week and maybe a couple more times if we find there are more things to figure out. He made me promise to come back, in fact. Which I plan to do so I can get to the bottom of this and figure out some creative solutions. I don't want to take medication if I can help it...it just scares me to be dependent on something like that. I told him that would be my last resort."

  
"Sure, of course. Don't forget you always have me. I will help in any way you need."

  
"I know you will. And you will never know how grateful I am for your constant support. Even when I push you away. You're relentless," Ella laughs with a sniffle. I can hear the tears still in her voice.

  
"I love you. I don't want you to face these things alone." My genuine reply pulls the trigger and she folds into my chest, crying into my shirt. "Oh, honey!" I wrap her up in my arms and kiss the top of her head as I hold her close.

  
"I love you too. I don't know what I'd do without you," she responds after a minute or so, keeping her head buried in my chest. My hands rubbing up and down her spine soothe her until she quiets and stills.

  
"I think that was a good start. You don't have to tell me more right now. I'd be happy to pick this back up tomorrow, or whenever you're ready. What do you say?"

  
"Definitely tomorrow. I don't want to drag it out longer than that."

  
"Okay then. It's a date," I tease. "Do you think you'd sleep better now that you've eaten something and gotten a little weight off your mind?"

  
Ella nods sincerely. She does look exhausted.

  
I take her hand and pull her with me off the couch. "Let's go back to bed. I think our son is in there waiting for us."


	8. Chapter 8

The smells of eggs, Swedish sausage, toast, and fresh coffee fill the kitchen as I wait for the irresistibility to waft down the hall and through the bedroom door, which I strategically left ajar. Breakfast is a sure fire way to rouse a sleeping Ella. I give Max a scoop of his food and pour my own cup of coffee while I wait at the stove. If I know my wife, and I think I do, she'll be making her heavy-lidded appearance before the eggs have finished cooking.

On cue, as I turn off the stove moments later, I hear the unmistakable sounds of rustling sheets and movement from the other side of the wall. Perfect timing. I plate two dishes of breakfast and pour the second cup of coffee.

  
Hair pulled into a messy bun, Ella shuffles into view, pressing the heel of each hand into her sleepy eyes before blinking against the morning light. Even like this, in a grey sweatshirt with sleeves past her hands and no makeup on, I have never seen anyone so beautiful. She can tell me all she wants that she's the lucky one, but I know better.

  
"There's my pretty girl," I greet lightly with a hint of playfulness. "How did you sleep?"

  
"Mmm," she answers vaguely.

  
"That good, eh?"

  
A smile pulls at one side of Ella's mouth, and she blinks slowly - allowing her eyes time to adjust - as she approaches me at the counter, where I am ready with the plates.

  
"What's this?" Her tired voice carries in it a mixture of surprise and skepticism.

  
Hiding a smile, I shrug innocently.

She looks at me warily, at the food I've carefully prepared.  "Erin? Are you trying to butter me up?"

  
I lower my head slightly, tucking my chin, and peer at her through my eyelashes. My voice takes on an unassuming air of naïvety.

  
"That depends. Is it working?"

  
"Kind of," she admits. "Thank you." Taking the coffee from my right hand, she leans in to give my lips a tender kiss.

  
My heart melts inside of me as I feel pieces of my wife coming back. I smile into her kiss right before she pulls back to sit at the table, the smile still firmly on my face.

  
"You're welcome."

  
As I sit across from Ella, Max comes trotting over to my feet to beg.

  
"Maxwell, don't beg, I just fed you. Go find your bed."

  
He tips his head and doesn't budge. I hold his gaze, unrelenting. Deciding I won't give him what he wants, he faces Ella, questioningly. She chuckles softly and beckons him over which he quickly complies with.

  
"Don't tell Mommy," I hear her whisper fairly conspicuously as she reaches down with a small piece of sausage. She pats him and gives him kisses before straightening back up.

  
"Very discreet, Ella," I say with narrowed eyes.

  
Her face betrays guilt, but she manages to look smug. She's up to her old antics, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't grateful for it at present.

  
"Okay, Max, go sleep. No, I'm not giving you more. We'll both be in trouble. Go." Obediently, he turns toward the living room.

  
"You're unbelievable."

  
"Why, thank you," Ella intentionally misinterprets my meaning.

  
"You know that's the only reason you became his favourite, right?" I jab. "He'd love me more, too, if I gave him treats."

  
Ella scowls. However, her dimple is visible through a half-hidden grin. "And to think you had been doing so well this morning."

  
Although there is still something lacking in the teasing, I am relieved and hopeful seeing this side of my better half resurface for the first time in the last couple days. I don't feel like I have to walk on eggshells anymore, but I still want to let her mood dictate how the morning goes. We are dancing around a sensitive topic; one I am going to leave to Ella to broach in her own timing. The breakfast plan was my way of aiding her in her openness. Hopefully it works.

  
"Mmm, this is amazing," Ella raves around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "What did you put in these?"

  
Spurred by confidence in my cooking and the fact that we are having a normal conversation, I pull my lips up, baring my teeth. "Oh, a little of this, little of that."

  
"Come on. Really."

  
"Okay. Well, obviously some spinach and chives, if you couldn't tell."

  
"Thanks...thanks for that," Ella monotones.

  
"No problem," I chuckle. I think I am pretty funny. "Anyyyway, there's also a touch of cheese, a pinch of garlic powder, and your classic marriage of salt and pepper. Never underestimate that. Plus my secret ingredient of love." A wink accompanies the last item.

  
"You are such a dork," she informs me, for not remotely close to the first time.

  
"Yeah, well, a dork you agreed to marry. Joke's on you, baby cakes." My mood is incredibly light. Something in the atmosphere has changed since Ella started acting more like herself. Nevertheless, I know we still have a long morning ahead of us.

  
"I hate that," she states, referring to the pet name which I only use to tease her. I know she can't stand it.

  
"But, I suppose I'll let it slide this once, because this really is some kind of magic."

  
"I know how to treat my baby. And I know you like packing protein and iron on workout days."

  
"Helps build these bad boys up." Ella flexes her biceps for emphasis.

  
"Happy to assist," I quip suggestively.

  
She rolls her eyes. But I detect the measured pride she wears where her muscles are concerned. A good confidence booster is what she needs right now.

  
"Listen, I know why you did all this," Ella confides, gesturing to the meal between us. Her tone has switched to one of sincerity. "I wasn't gonna back out, you know. We do need to talk. It's best for both of us. But, I appreciate the gesture."

  
She reaches across the table for my right hand, which I gladly slip into her outstretched one. Those soft eyes are looking into mine more genuinely than I've seen in a while. Fingers grazing her ring, I look down at that symbol. Our promise to be honest, faithful, and open with each other. To always love, support, and listen to one another. In these tough moments, that reminder means the most. I smile as I run my thumb over the diamond set above the rest of her ring.

  
"I'm ready to listen."

  
We finish eating in near silence. Ella speaks up first.

  
"Living room?"

  
"Perfect. Lead the way."

~

  
"How long do we have before we have to meet the girls at the gym?"

  
I check the time. "A couple hours."

  
"Okay good. I'll try to not take too long, but it's good to know I have time."

  
We're facing each other on the couch after having taken Max down.

  
"Take as long as you need," I encourage. This is why I woke us up earlier than normal for breakfast.

  
Ella nods and takes a deep breath in preparation then begins.

  
"As you could tell, I've been doing a lot of thinking the past couple days. Some that was causing my issues and then, yesterday, some things I was and still am trying to figure out and put words to. It's been an eye-opening sixteen hours for me. I just needed to get it all sorted out first. That's why I couldn't really talk to you yesterday. It wasn't coherent enough in my own mind yet; there's no way I would have been able to express myself clearly out loud.

  
"I'm gonna start off with some things you already know because I think it will be easier to talk through it. Just some things the therapist had me share to help me find some answers. So just bear with me."

  
"Whatever you need to say, please do. I don't care if I've heard it before." And then, as an afterthought, I add that I won't interrupt.

  
"Thank you. So, you know that when we met, I was getting out of a pretty rough 2 years, to put it mildly. Between my dad's death, moving back to Illinois and terminating my PSG contract, the situation with my ex...things were falling apart for me for a while. But then life kind of picked back up with the start of the NWSL and playing in a promising league. I had been using soccer as an escape my whole life and that didn't change over those couple years. I basically concentrated on the things that needed to get done and pushed myself into my soccer career and didn't give myself the chance to heal, but rather brush it aside hoping it would resolve itself." Ella laughs ironically.

  
"As you can tell, that didn't turn out too well for me. And this is what I'm getting at. In talking in my session yesterday, I was encouraged to give an overview of key points in my life and how they affect my life now. Things my subconscious was struggling with that I wouldn't allow my conscious mind to address. Things I didn't consider still having repercussions. Like not dealing with my emotions when it would be healthiest so they don't come back and bite me down the road. I grew up with there always being something going on. Some hardship I was enduring and racing to the soccer pitch to drown it out. I had a hard time dealing with my emotions and still struggle with that now. But, I want to work on that so I don't have the build up in the future that causes breakdowns later on.

  
"I've been on constant alert and in a state of paranoia in the last few months that have been wracking me with all sorts of physical and mental symptoms. And I honestly didn't get it at all. Not until having a verifiable outlet and a fresh perspective. At that point my life was the best it's been. We were married and happy, I was proudly getting my Canadian citizenship," I smile at the proud memory, "moving to Sweden to play in Europe for and with a great group of people, we didn't have to spend months apart, I was in my best athletic shape. Everything seemed to be perfect...my foreseeable future was really bright. When I mentioned those few things, the therapist said often times that can be the case. It's when you have nothing you are actively worrying about or struggling with - when you're at your high point, in pique condition - that things crumble internally. With nothing else to occupy my drama-centered mind, those old things I'd never confronted snuck up on me.

  
"Part of what I was processing last night was just coming to terms with my own approach to life. And I realized I thrive on drama, and then it all made sense that my overactive mind couldn't be okay with life working out so well. In unwittingly waiting for life to drop the other shoe, I was the one who did that to myself...and you. I couldn't just let myself be happy.

  
"Anyway, that's the gist of what's been going on up here," she taps her head. "I don't have it all figured out, but I'm getting there and could use your help. I'll work on ways to control this and over the next week see what more I've discovered before the next meeting."

  
She's finishes her explanation without crying once, although I could hear the emotion in her voice while she was baring her heart to me.

  
"Wow, Ella," I breathe. Her admissions and revelations leave me in awe. "I had no idea you were dealing with all of that."

  
"How could you have? I wasn't open about it. As usual, I kept it bottled up and ignored it. Pretended it wasn't there. And I shut you out. Many times."  Placing her hand on my knee, Ella looks at me with unfathomable eyes and a sincere look of regret. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Erin. But I can tell I have. I can't tell you enough how sorry I am for putting you through watching helplessly while never failing to try to get through to me. I might have tried to brush things off or never say anything; but, I noticed your pained looks when I would reject your shows of affection and support."

  
"There is no need to apologize, babe. What you've gone through - what you've faced in life - I can't imagine that. And your tenacity and vibrancy for life are miraculous shows of how much you live life to the fullest and come back from hardship stronger and more passionate than ever. This will get better, we'll both get though it, and the other side will be filled with new perspective and hope. I promise you I will be right beside you; I never left your side and I never will." I take her hand, still on my knee, into mine and try to pierce her soul with my eyes to convey how strongly I believe in us. We are stronger together, and I know she knows that.

  
"Stop being so understanding all the time," Ella weakly teases.

  
"Never."

  
We end up talking for over an hour, discussing where to go from here and how to recognize the signs before an anxiety attack comes on. Along with some tips the team therapist gave her, we go over things that could be triggers for her anxiety. For instance, when left alone to her thoughts and having nothing to preoccupy her, Ella tends to get caught up in overthinking and stressing. This sends her into a downward spiral and she loses a grip on whatever control she previously had over her emotions and mental capabilities.

  
That is where I can come in. As much as possible, I will be around to try to distract my wife and cheer her up. By watching me draw, listening to me sing, laughing at me being my silly self, getting lost in practice and workouts, watching a movie or soccer game, etc; Ella can find other things to focus on. Based off her past experiences, we know this isn't the healthiest or only option for her. Therefore, we go over a plan to find a happy medium of utilizing available distractions when Ella needs something to calm her nerves, and knowing when to choose the talk-it-out course of action when it's something that could grow in time and haunt her.

  
By the time we are wrapping up our talk, it's about time to get ourselves ready. As we stand to face the day, I pull the person who means more to me than anyone else in the world into my embrace. Her arms tight around my waist and her head tucked easily under my chin, I feel like things are comfortable again and closer to being back to normal. We have a way to go, and it won't always be easy, but I can tell things should start feeling better. Communication will be a big part in aiding that.

  
"I love you, Erin. Thank you for being so patient with me through everything."

  
"I love you too, honey."

  
With a kiss, we part.

 

** 

 

We end up being the first to the gym, which isn't abnormal, but has been less common in the last couple weeks. Ella and I get ourselves set up to start before everyone shows up. Thankfully, it doesn't take too long before the other girls start trickling in and we all get to work.

  
Ella is in her own world of focus and it makes me happy seeing her in her element. This time it seems to be more motivation oriented than a source of escape. _Yeah, she's back._

  
I notice as the session goes on, Ella has been going from weights to treadmill to more weights in her usual fashion of go go go.

  
"Does she always go this hard?" Ali asks as we both spend time with free weights.

  
"Ella?"

  
"Yeah. She's like a machine in here."

  
I laugh at her accurate assessment. "This is totally normal. What? Was she not like this before I came?" I am genuinely curious if she hadn't been at her usual performance level.

  
"No, she was. I just thought she'd slow down at some point."

  
"When she does, I'll let you know," I joke. "She's been this way as long as I've known her. It challenges me and makes me push myself harder, too."

  
"Awesome! So we have her to thank for your amazing skills." Ali winks playfully at me.

  
"To a degree, yes. In recent years, anyway." I'm not ashamed to admit Ella has made me a better goalkeeper and overall person.

  
"Well, I can see why you try to keep up. Your wife is built. Not sure if you'd noticed that," she says with a hearty laugh.

  
"You know, Riley, thanks for pointing that out. I, in fact, hadn't noticed." I join in her laughter.

  
"I'm excited for this season. We have a good looking team and everyone seems to be on top of their game. It should be a good year."

  
"I couldn't agree more. Not to be biased or anything, but I think this is Ella's year. She was meant to be on this team. And, with playing in Champion's League  being a lifelong dream of mine, I'm feeling really ready for this season. There's an extra amount of determination going into it for me."

  
"That's great! From what I've seen, and how I feel too, we should be unstoppable. This team is stacked."

  
"Oh, for sure."

  
~

  
While leaving the gym a while later, Ella and I chat with Ali for a bit and settle on next Thursday to do our awaited bonding night. I'm really looking forward to it because I think Ella needs a night like that. Plus, I love opportunities to get to know teammates better.

  
Facing the weekend, I hold my head high and bask in the happiness my wife is exuding. She is in a genuinely good mood which I'm finding incredibly contagious. A sign of the coming weeks, I hope. Starting the season soon will likely keep her spirits up, and I am more excited than ever for the beginning of a new soccer year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make no promises, but I am going to try to get one more chapter in soonish (with Ali's visit, finally, among other things.)  
> After that, I think I'll take some time off writing, potentially until after the holiday season.
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving, fellow American readers!! :)


	9. Chapter 9

Over the weekend and early the next week, Ella and I start to hit our groove. Between workouts, training sessions, and practices, we are familiarizing ourselves more and more with teammates and staff. Learning the ins and outs of the playing style of the individuals surrounding us and getting a feel for working together as a single unit.

  
In addition, we are spending more time in the evenings and hours in between work to talk and unwind. A semblance of normality is being returned to our daily life. The keyboard and phone cameras have come out a few times recently and we're finding ways to keep our home atmosphere positive and stress free. We are making time to listen to each other while Ella is trying to keep herself open. Her next therapy session is tomorrow. Even in the last five days, progress has been made which should make for a good follow-up appointment. Thankfully, it's a day off so that shouldn't cut into our evening plans at all.

  
Still, there are moments of quiet where I observe Ella starting to slip into the abyss of her innermost thoughts. Those are the times I draw her out and she'll snap back to reality, giving me an apologetic smile and she'll share her worries and musings. It's becoming less difficult to ease her into conversation and to aid in veering her focus onto other things, keeping her mind in the present. Like I said, progress.

One of the songs she's been learning on keyboard is Rise Up by Andra Day, and I just love singing it. The lyrics hit home at this point in life and I know that's why she suggested we play it. She's making a statement and, in the form of posting it to Twitter on Sunday, vowing to follow through with that promise.

  
With all that has been going on lately, it has had me thinking about a particular time when I did to her what her silence has, up until now, done to me. A time when I left her hanging for longer than I should have after she put herself on the line. And I can't help but think that what goes around comes around.

 

**

~Late August 2013~

 

The five of us are having one last movie night shortly after our final game of the season. In the next week or so we will be going our separate ways for the offseason and decided to have a last hoorah to commemorate all the evenings we spent together over the summer.

  
Lori, Taryn, Ella, and I have become pretty close in the past six months - along with Dri after she took over Carm's forcibly relinquished role as my roommate in mid July - seeing as we all live across the hall from each other in the same house. Movie and/or game nights have become a staple of ours.

  
"Way to ruin the uniformity, T," I say by way of a greeting as I open my apartment door to the three. "You know it's supposed to be grey! What's with the black sweats?" Mock offense fills my voice. I draw her attention to the grey sweats I am wearing for this grand event, as was the plan coordinated by the other four of us.

  
She shrugs with an apologetic smirk in response. "Sorry, I didn't know there was a rule."

  
"Maybe not a rule, per se, but an unspoken agreement. You're the one who's always wearing the grey sweats and shirts. I thought it would be a fun matchy thing to do." It's kind of our running joke. "And, if I'm not mistaken, Ella is even wearing one of your pairs for the occasion." I point to the blond behind her, who assumes a sheepish look. That's all the confirmation Taryn needs to roll her eyes at her and step into the living room.

  
"I couldn't find any grey of my own, so I had to improvise," Ella admits. "No biggie, right, T?"

  
Such an Ella thing to do, stealing people's clothes. But, why does she seem nervous or bashful or whatever emotion her posture is indicating tonight that I can't quite pinpoint?

  
The taller blond already has her socked feet up on the coffee table and looks over the back of the couch toward the entrance. With an amused expression, she replies, "Well, guess that explains why I couldn't find a clean pair. I decided to switch it up a bit instead. You know, throw you all off."

  
Lori gives her roommates her signature grin; that one that seems to be a permanent fixture, accompanying her perpetually rosy cheeks. She goes to sit on the couch as Ella and I walk further into the apartment to join the other two.

  
"Yeah, big departure from the norm. You might as well have just worn jeans if you were gonna switch it up on us so drastically," I say, sarcastically incredulous.

  
"Ha. Ha. Maybe I should have." After considering that idea for a second, she shakes her head. "No, I can't even joke about that."

  
We all have a good laugh at Taryn's horrified thought. Dri walks over with the popcorn and settles in with us. Choosing the spot in the middle of the couch between Taryn and Ella, I pull out my phone.

  
"Everyone gather. Mostly matching picture time," I glare at T who just gives me an unapologetic look as if to say she couldn't care less. "Anyyyway, smile e'erybody."

  
Once I snap the picture and the group approves, I select Carm's name and send it. 'Ironically, one of us didn't get the memo;)'

  
She texts back quickly. 'Haha, poor T. Looks like the peasant's pants are a tad too long, though.'

  
'That's because she stole them from the princess.'

  
'She'll never learn to stop trying to make her way up in the world, will she?'

  
Now I am chuckling to myself and gently shaking my head in amusement. From my peripheral vision, I catch Ella eyeing me.

  
"Can I help you?" I ask.

  
"What are you laughing at? Who are you texting?" She's giving me the third degree and I have no idea why. I have the feeling I'm being interrogated; but, whatever, teasing Ella is this team's favorite pastime.

  
"Um, just Carm. She thinks you shouldn't be stealing clothes from higher ups." I can't help but wink at her and laugh again. The other girls overhear and join in the gentle ribbing.

  
"Oh, real mature, guys. And, I know she loves me." She gives a weak smile and rolls her eyes.

  
"Tell her we miss her," Lori requests, so I do.

  
And I just can't contain myself. "If you want to tell yourself she loves you, go ahead, El."

  
"I don't have to. I just know it, even if no one else does."

  
Just then, before we can get too off track, Dri chooses to press play on the movie and we all get focused.

  
After the movie ends, my roommate heads to bed and so do Ella's. However, she stays on the couch and tells them she'll be over in a few minutes.

Throughout the evening, and particularly the movie, she has been acting more awkward than normal. And that's quite a feat for her. I wonder what's up, but then again it's Ella, and she is kind of an enigma.

  
"Hey, Erin, can we talk?" she wonders, reaching for my arm just as I was shifting to rise.

  
Uh-oh, I took it too far, didn't I? Maybe we all tease her too much. Come on, though, she is such an easy target. "Uh, sure. What's up?"

  
Dropping her eyes, she clears her throat and starts fidgeting. "Um, I don't even know how to say this," her voice shakes, and she takes a half-steadying breath. "I-uh." I wait. "Sorry, I thought I was better prepared for this."

  
Okay, this might not be what I thought it was going to be. Knitting my eyebrows together in confusion, I prod her. "Just tell me what's going on, Ella. What has you so nervous?"

If the situation wasn't so tense and charged, I might have laughed, because she's acting so abnormally.

  
Her hands relax a little and she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. Slowly, she opens them again, boring into mine. "I've been thinking for a while. And I have to tell you or I'll kick myself all offseason for not taking be chance when I had it."

I am even more confused now, but I don't say anything, just merely hook an eyebrow and nod her along.

"Erin." Her eyes shift from mine and flit back but won't hold my gaze anymore. Another deep breath in. "I think I'm in love with you." An exhale.

  
Stunned into silence, I sit staring blankly back at her. How do I even respond to that? She doesn't even like girls, does she? Not that there haven't been signs; I'm not blind to the way she acts around me. Sure, I tease her, we flirt a bit, but still. She has given me a lot to think about in a very short amount of time and I don't have an easy way to respond to this. Because I am not in love with her.

  
"How's that?" I ask stupidly, as if she should be required to repeat herself.

  
Widened eyes stare back at me and I catch a direct glimpse into her soul. I can see her wishing she hadn't said anything, afraid I'll shoot her down; however, I also detect a knowing look, like she doesn't anticipate the feeling to be shared mutually.

"Look, I know it's unlikely you feel the same, I just felt like I should tell you. I don't know what I expected you to say." Her hesitant tone isn't in agreement with her nonchalant words. "Actually, don't say anything."

Something I've never seen in Ella's eyes flashes there, shooting through a wealth of feelings all vying for a spot at the surface. Fear. She just laid her heart on her sleeve, which isn't easy for her, and I'm too shell-shocked to form an intelligent response.

  
"I'm sorry, I just...I need some time to think." What does that mean? Why would I say that when I'm fairly certain how I feel? Or don't. "Ella, I appreciate your honesty..."

  
"But, huh?" Those eyes! I can't take the pain in them, but I also can't lie to her.

  
"Oh, Ella, I'm so sorry. You're a good friend of mine and this season...it has really been a pleasure." She might be something slightly more than a friend to me, but I can't give her that hope when she's looking at me like that. If I do, it could ease her pain for now but would be harder later on. Breaking a hopeful heart after stringing it along is way worse than initially denying her the opportunity to be hopeful for more.

  
The pain and fear in her eyes are replaced with a sea dejection and now my heart is breaking. "Yeah, it was an interesting one. You've been a good friend," and the word has a bitter bite coming off her lips. That's fair, seeing as our interactions have been toeing the friendship line all summer. "I should go. I just had to tell you, you know? Before we leave and don't see each other every day anymore."

  
"I understand. We'll keep in touch, though." Suddenly I'm unsure if she would even want that anymore. "You know, if you still want to," I tack on.

  
She stands to leave and looks down at me with a sad smile. A sheen of tears glimmers in her now shining eyes. They hold a hint of fragility. "Of course I'd like that. Goodnight, Erin."

  
"Goodnight."

  
When the door closes behind her, my head starts spinning and my stomach churns. _Fuck. What just happened?_   

  
~

  
In the course of the next couple months, I spend a lot of time thinking. Thinking about Ella and what she told me a week before I moved back to Vancouver. Thinking that I do like her and she is a good friend. But, what I can't quite figure out is if I love her. Am I in love with her?

  
In between offseason fitness and training and talks with Carm and Emily (who both happen to know Ella pretty well), Ella and I do keep in touch. We text, chat, keep up on each other's social media. And I realize something. I miss her. Here I am with my family and my Canadian team, and I'm craving time with my weird, awkward Chicago buddy. Besides, Max seems a little forlorn without her too. Although, that could just be my own imagining.

  
Eventually, I call her up in Copenhagen where she is playing overseas. What I tell her is that I miss her and want to fly her out if she would still like to visit me and Carm like she had said a while ago. Without realizing it, I hold my breath while I wait for her eager yes.

  
Her visit ends up being in November and, well, the rest is history.

 

**

~Present Day~

 

After what I've experienced these last few days and weeks, even months, I have a better understanding of what I must have put Ella through by taking my time before committing. I won't say I didn't take her feelings into account, but what I did do was not talk my own out with her initially and took painfully long to even come to terms with the fact that I returned her sentiments. By the time I did, it was the best realization I have ever made.

  
I'm sitting on the couch, mid memory of our first kiss and the sensations it induced in me that I could never replicate - at least not with anyone other than her, when Ella walks into the room.

  
Apparently the memory is visible on my face in the space preceding her question which pulls me out of my reverie. "What are you thinking about?"

  
My eyes meet hers and I relinquish control to the smirk tugging at my lips. "Not much."

  
"How come I don't believe that?"

  
"I don't control what you do and do not believe," I try to dismiss it with a shrug.

  
"Maybe you don't, but that smile doesn't help your case," she challenges.

  
Sighing, I give in. "Alright, if you _must_ know, I was reminiscing on that trip you took to Vancouver over two years ago. Remember that?"

  
The suggestion in my tone isn't lost on Ella. A blush creeps into her cheeks, traveling upward, as she is doubtless remembering slightly more than I was moments ago.

  
"Yeah, that one," I wink and she shoves me into the arm of the couch. I love that my making an insinuation can still cause her to blush even this much later. It's narcissistically satisfying.

  
"Whatever. So what brought that memory on?"

  
"Honestly?"

  
"Please."

  
"I was actually thinking about the night you confessed to me how you felt. You know, the night I was an idiot and didn't say it back because I was too busy being dense to recognize my own feelings. And I guess I was realizing I must have put you through a hell of a three months pretending nothing had happened while trying desperately to process it all - figure out what effect it had on me and what I actually felt toward you. I wish I had figured it all out sooner and saved you the heartache."

  
My admission draws an incredulous look from my wife. "In your defense, I could have had better timing. I kind of sprung it on you, no warning, when we were about to move. Although, sure, I'll admit it was not an easy three months. But I couldn't have asked you to process things any faster than it had taken me to get up the nerve to talk to you. Trust me, as much as it might have hurt, I never blamed you for taking that time."

  
The sincerity in her eyes eases some of my worries. "I still wish we could have been on he same page all along."

  
"Sure, but I'm okay with where we are now. However the road went, at least it led us here." Ella smiles warmly. And, now I'm wondering how this turned into her comforting me. That's the opposite of what should be happening right now.

  
I concede a nod. "Of course, you're correct. It's hard to be upset about how we started when we still ended up here," I say, leaning in and kissing her soundly. Her lips respond to mine and she begins kissing me back. However, before I can get too caught up in it, I remember what she had been doing in the other room. Pulling back slightly, I give her lips a soft kiss before separating completely.

  
"So, how did the talk with Wes go?" Ella's good friend, Wesley Knight, has been a significant source of motivation and brotherly love to her over the last year plus. 

She clears her throat, having presumably momentarily forgotten the phone call herself.  "Right that," she laughs. "It actually went really well. He was encouraging, reminding me of the things I'm capable of and he's seen me accomplish. He urged me to keep you close and let you help me. I guess he knows my tendencies pretty well."

  
"Yeah, you two have a close bond. That's awesome he can speak into you so efficiently. I won't even be offended that I was telling you those same things about yourself when you weren't listening to me," I lightly tease, knowing how important their platonic relationship is to both of them. That very status is what makes it so effective.

  
"It's always nice to have a second opinion," she counters. "I mean, you're expected to say those things, as my wife. Not that you're afraid to be honest with me and say it like you see it."

  
There, she is not wrong. We have never been the kind of couple who always blindly and flippantly follows and agrees with each other. Unlike some, we aren't afraid to have the hard conversations, to call each other out, and to help each other learn and grow and become better, while still loving the other for who they are. Give and take. It is less about being concerned with "what does she think of me?" or "how will this be received?" and more about loving and respecting each other enough to correct things we consider to be detrimental to growth and the betterment of character. Bringing out the best of what is already there.

  
That being said, we are loving and kind toward one another on the whole. We certainly don't fixate on flaws.

  
"Honey, you don't have to defend yourself to me. I know it isn't realistic to get everything you need from one source. That's why you went to see a therapist and that's why I agreed that you should absolutely talk to your closest friends."

  
"I know. And trust me, what you say does matter even if I don't accept it at the time. It always means the world to me that you are so quick to be at my side and showing me how much you care."

  
"I'm in your corner for life, baby," I ham, unable to keep it too serious at the moment. I probably should, but I can't.

  
The hand patting my forearm feels patronizing. That line was a little too cliché for Ella.

  
"Speaking of therapists, how do you feel about tomorrow," I attempt to segue the conversation.

  
"I'm feeling good about it."

  
"Yeah?"

  
"Yes, actually. I feel like I've gotten somewhat of a handle on my emotions. This past week has shown me a lot about myself and I have started to understand how my mind works in ways I didn't before. I think tomorrow's session will be fairly easy compared with last week's. At least this time I'm going in with some answers and solutions, rather than showing up empty-handed and broken down."

  
"Broken down and tired, living life on a merry-go-round," I interject, singing. "Wow, Rise Up really is a good fit for life right now, isn't it?" I muse.

  
"Yep. And that's why I was excited to learn how to play it. It might become a pivotal song for us," Ella agrees.

  
"Well, I'm really glad you feel prepared for tomorrow. I am sure he'll be happy with the progress you've made."

  
"Even if he isn't, I can confidently say that I am." A surety that has been lacking is glimmering in her eyes and I am incredibly proud. Of what she has gone through and overcome. Of how hard she fights to keep herself going. Of the sparks of her healthy self I keep seeing more and more glimpses of.

  
"So am I, babe," I assure her forcefully, so there can be no doubt in her mind that I see how far she has come. Then, to solidify my words, I punctuate them with another kiss.

  
"What do you want to do tonight?" Since it is early still, we have time to get an evening in.

  
"I don't know about you, but I'm gonna snuggle in and watch a movie or something." While the words are leaving her mouth, she adjusts to lay on the couch. Assuming my usual position, she leaves me no other option but to remain seated, not that I had any other plan in mind.

  
With Ella's head resting in my lap and a blanket over her back, I take the remote she hands me and search for something to watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last section got away from me a bit and briefly went in a slightly different direction than intended.  
> I hope people are liking this so far! Please leave feedback...I think it could help with my motivation.  
> That being said, I do plan to take a break (not sure how long, at least the New Year, I'd say) because I feel like trying to find the time and correct mindset to update has been stressing me out too much lately. :/


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if anyone missed me, but I'm finally back and plan to update again in a week or less, hopefully! I hope this update is worth the three and a half month wait. It isn't all that long and not a ton happens, but enough that it moves the plot and timeline along. We're getting close to the inevitable, so I apologize in advance for the coming chapters. Anyway, I hope this is good...I wanted to get back into posting :)

Ella and I walk to the door when we hear the knock, right on time. When I pull the door open, I note the camera already rolling, a constant companion of Ali Riley's. She likes documenting things, a hobby that I believe started with "Ali and Kelley's Corner" back when she and Kelley O'Hara were roommates.

"Welcome," Ella greets, cheerily.

"Thanks for having me over," Ali replies, putting the camera aside for now. I know it will be back on plenty throughout the evening.

Within the first hour, I can tell that the defender's presence is having a positive effect on Ella. Ali has such a bubbly disposition, always smiling and ready for fun. It's hard for Ella to get too stuck in her head and worries while around such positive energy, and I'm infinitely grateful that Sweden has already provided my wife with such great friendships and quick bonds.

*

"That bike ride was killer in this weather," Ali complains after dinner. We are sitting in the living room while the Manchester City game plays. She stretches out and groans. "My legs won't be thanking me tomorrow."

Seemingly getting an idea, my wife leaves the room momentarily.

"Have you ever been to the moon?" Ella asks, returning, recovery boots in hand. I can't help but laugh at what Ali is getting herself into.

"You shouldn't have said anything." She gives me an apprehensive look before turning back to Ella. "I did warn you about coming over. You don't have to do this, you know."

Her full, dimpled smile is reassuring, though as she accepts her fate. "I've actually heard those work really well, so it won't hurt to try them, huh?"

"That's what I like to hear," Ella replies mischievously.

Once in place and filled with air, the recovery boots keep Ali immobile, rooted to her spot on the couch. With the camera now in my hands, I record her reaction to being in this newly trapped state.

"I'm being kidnapped!" she bemoans in a manner befitting an SOS.

"That was the plan," comes Ella's quick-witted reply.

Laughing at their strange rapport, I press pause and hand the camera back to its owner.

"You two are too much."

"Thank you," they respond in unison, both boasting matching grins. Their bubbling laughter fills the apartment with a serene and light air. I then glue my attention back to the game, internally beaming.

*

A couple hours, which included serenading, fun with Max, football watching, and dessert eating, later we bid adieu to our guest.

Promises of future plans are made and I note the relaxed expression that has taken up residence on my better half's face.

"You really looked like you were enjoying yourself tonight," I observe as we settle into bed.

"I was. I'm glad we finally got around to doing that. It was just what the doctor ordered," Ella sighs contentedly and leans in to place a tender kiss on my cheek before turning around and snuggling in.

Wrapping my arms around her from behind, Max curled at our feet, I return her kiss and whisper, "I'm glad."

A warm feeling fills my chest and a smile graces my face as we drift off.

 

**

 

After a grueling practice and training session early the next week in anticipation of our upcoming matches, I am dead on my feet. As we gather our equipment, Ella stops to chat with Emma. We have been in the process of trying to get to know our new teammates better, and part of that involves inviting them into our home.

"Hey, Emma, our first home game is coming up pretty soon," Ella begins offhandedly. Obviously, I am aware of where she is going with this, but I also know the defender won't be.

"Ja, I know," the Swede says with a hint of laughter in her eyes. Our Rosengård family is still trying to get accustomed to Ella and her random ways.

"What would you think of coming to Erin and I's? I'm thinking next week, maybe a couple days before the match?"

"She makes really good carrot cake," pipes Ali, adding her two cents from across the locker room, causing Ella to laugh.

"True, it was a hit." She shrugs at Emma, waiting for an answer.

"That might be fun. Is there any reason why or just because?"

"What she's getting at is that we did this show back in the States before every home game. Fans back home have been asking about it so Ella wants to set up an episode before next week's match," I cut in before Ella can drag it out and spring it on the poor girl last second. It's only fair that she knows what she's being forced into.

"She got me. Erin's right, I'm trying to find willing participants and also get to know my teammates better." Ella glares at me before turning back to the defender while I simply smile back at her.

With a chuckle, Emma gives us a quizzically intrigued look. "This sounds interesting. Let me know what day. I will think about being there."

"Okay, I'll talk to you more next practice and find someone else to join us. Maybe even Marty," she adds as the Brazilian is exiting the showers. Her gaze flicks over to our corner and she raises a suspicious brow.

"I do not know what you are planning, Ella, but is it safe to say no?"

"For now. But don't worry, we'll get you later this season."

"Okay, come on honey, let's get going," I interject. I'm tired and don't want to get held up longer than we already have been.

With an eye roll, she complies. "I'm coming, Erin."

We leave the locker room, Ella trailing ever so slightly. "Honey, how's your knee feeling?" Concern is evident in her tone.

Letting my shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, I contemplate for a few seconds. Sure, practice was intense, and I made some dives and pushed my body pretty hard. Now that I'm focused on it, my right knee is feeling kind of strained and sore, but nothing I feel warrants any worry. "It's fine. That was a big session, but just the normal aches and pains, really."

"Are you limping?" she pushes.

"Nope." _Was I?_ I make a conscious effort to deliberately take steady steps. "Don't think so."

"It looked like you were. Just be careful, please."

"It must have been subconscious. Don't worry, I'll do the recovery routine tonight. My whole body needs it."

 

**

 

Our team spends the next few days in recovery, light practice and work outs, and travel in preparation for our first game against Linköping. The excitement is palpable as match day draws nearer. There's something about Champions League that makes this season different. Even though the offseason gap was shorter this year, the anticipation of this league and playing in Europe and what that means holds significant weight.

Being here is the realization of dreams I've had since I was very young. I can already feel what I will gain as a goalkeeper and person from our experience here. Between that and how much Ella seems to have been made for this team, I could not feel more like we are where we are meant to be at this time in our lives and careers.

As we walk the streets with Max the evening before our road trip, I can't shake the feeling that this life I am currently living - in Sweden, my wife by my side, pursuing my dream career, and truly happy - this, my life, is too good to be true. But in a good way. Like I am unbelievably lucky and blessed to be where I am.

We sit on a bench, breathing in the cool night air, Ella's arm looped through mine, and Max at our feet.

Throughout our walk, we had been keeping up light conversation and I now pick up on the pensive, withdrawn mood Ella is in.

"Earth to Ella." I nudge her side with my elbow.

"Hmm?" she wonders, slowly turning to face me.

"I feel like I lost you there for minute. What's going on?"

"Just thinking."

 _Please don't be slipping,_ I silently plea. "Yeah? What about?" I prod.

A genuine, soft-eyed smile warms her face. "Nothing to be worried about. You can put that crease away," she says, pointing to my forehead.

"Oh, yeah, sorry." I allow my face to relax and the tenseness in my muscles to ease. "I just don't want you to be struggling without me."

"That's sweet, Erin. No, I was thinking of good things. Like how amazing it is to be here. Wednesday is gonna be a big day, and I'm so happy."

It appears we have been on the same wavelength tonight. I let out a content sigh as she tells me the things aloud that I had moments ago been feeling.

"Me too, babe, me too. This is a dream come true, and the fact that you are here with me is the icing on the cake." In this moment, I want to kiss her, but as we are in public, I refrain, content to give her arm a squeeze with my own.

"I know," teases Ella, with a twinkle in her grey-tinged eyes. "It's a little surreal to be living this dream out, isn't it?"

"It really is," I concur. "And now it's getting cold. I can barely feel my nose. And it's the middle of March!" I add, wishing spring was a thing already.  "How about we head back home?"

"What do you think, Maxxy?" Max's brown eyes look longingly up to meet with Ella's; he cocks his head and whines once. She laughs at his reaction. "I'll take that as a yes. Let's go, honey."

"I love you."

Lips quirking at one corner of her mouth humorously, Ella looks at me, caught off guard at my abrupt declaration. "I love you, too, weirdo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I can't take credit for some comments, as I took them directly from Ali Riley's video "An Evening with the McLeods". All information from that night comes from the video.
> 
> I hope some people are still around to read this.  
> Let me know what you're thinking and if you like how the pace is moving along :)  
> I'll be back soon - there were other moments I had meant to add to this one, but the ending seemed to be too good to keep going.


	11. Chapter 11

We come out of Wednesday's game against Linköping with a 2-1 victory to reward the hard work and many hours this team has put into preseason and training.

The energy level is nearly equivalent to that of a World Cup atmosphere as we revel in the win, although it is only the game before we head into The Champions League tournament. Knowing we still have work to do, I allow myself to enjoy the celebration and how good going into CL on the heels of winning the Super Cup feels, but I don't want to get too caught up in it because the toughest teams and bigger tournament is yet to come. However, I do enjoy watching as my wife, Marta, Ali, Emma, and a few others participate in some celebratory dancing while music blares through speakers someone thought to bring.

Every one us in the locker room is cheering and amped for the next stop on our road. I have never been happier with the decision to come to Europe to play in this dream tournament, for this dream league, on this dream club. It feels so much like home being here in the midst of some incredible girls and world class athletes.

 

**

 

"My favourite McLeods!" Sophie's voice crackles over the speaker of Ella's phone on Thursday afternoon.

"The one and only Sophie Schmidt?!" I exclaim. "Is it really you?"

Her laughter comes over the line as Ella chuckles and I hold my own outburst in with a grin. "In the flesh. Well, not really for you, but yeah, you know."  I can hear her lips pulling over her teeth forming that signature, blinding smile as she speaks. It's a wonder she still _can_ smile considering the muscles in her cheeks must be killing with how often she wears that look.

Ella and I are sitting comfortably in our living room with Max curled between us, curiously inspecting the phone for the source of Sophie's voice.

"Excited for the game, Soph?" Ella questions, referring to the quarterfinal match next Wednesday, in which we will be taking on FFC Frankfurt.

"Are you kidding? Of course I am. I haven't seen you in far too long, Ella."

"I know, it's been a while." An idea lights up her face and I nod in agreement, aware of where she is planning on taking this. "You should stick around Malmö after the match and we can catch up."

"That would be great! I'm in. You two can show me around and introduce me to the good places."

"We haven't had many chances to go out, but there are a couple good restaurants we've tried," I offer. "Or we can take you to our favourite little café and get coffee and pastries. We have time to figure it out."

"Awesome, I can't wait for the private tour. And seeing as one team will be kicking the other out of the tournament, how about winner treats?"

Upon hearing Sophie's proposal, Ella and I exchange a glance and a shrug. Loser compensation? It sounds fair to me.

"What do you think, El? Can we swing it?" I ask in an aside that I'm sure Sophie's phone is picking up on.

Ella flashes her smirk with the corner-mouth dimple, greenish-grey eyes sparkling. "I think I can move some things around. Shouldn't break the bank."

"Alright, you have yourself a deal, Schmidt," I say, including my fellow Canadian back into the conversation.

"Sounds good. And you won't need to move anything around. I'll come prepared. I got this one."

"Okay, Miss Cocky," I quip, ignoring our own cockiness from a moment ago, "you just focus on keeping yourself from wiping out on the pitch."

"Hey, a few times that happens," she protests.

"Soph."

"Okay, okay. Many times that happens. Still, what's a girl have to do to get past her reputation?"

"Maybe stop having so many Sophie Moments for a start," I tease.

"Okay you two. Let's just leave it at 'winner pays'," Ella interjects, acting as the voice of reason for the two of us.

"This has to be the weirdest bet I've ever made," I confess bemusedly.

More laughter wends its way through the speaker. "It might seem a little backwards, but it works."

"Oh, it does. It's still weird, though."

"Maybe so. Listen guys, I gotta go, but I'll see you in six days."

"Bye, Sophie, love you."

"Love you too, Erin."

"See you! Expect at least a few hugs from me," Ella warns. Max looks at the phone closely, still trying to work out why he can hear a familiar voice without seeing her face. "Maxwell says goodbye, too."

"I'll be ready. Bye, you two. Bye, Max."

The line cuts off and Ella and I grin widely at each other, excited about next week's plans.

 

**

 

The next two days entail practices, drill work, weight sessions, and some one on one training for us keepers. By the time we get a day off on Sunday, the whole team is more than ready for it. We know tomorrow is going to be a lighter conditioning day and Tuesday will be another tough day back on the grind before the kickoff game, so this day is vital for recuperation.

I spend a portion of the morning in meditation to center my mind and light yoga to center my body. Meanwhile, Ella chills on the couch in her trusty recovery boots, mindlessly stroking Max while using her observation of my routine as a secondhand means to calm and focus herself. Tomorrow night, we have plans to have Emma Berglund and Therese Sjögran, whom the former convinced to join her, over to do a homemade version of our show; so, this quiet morning is the perfect way to start our day before getting some form of plans together for that.

Ella is the one to break our comfortable silence as I am rolling up my mat. "Erin, talk to me."

I detect a slight strain to her voice, but don't think too much of it.

"Okay," I say as I pack my things away. "What about?" I add a bit suspiciously.

Ella deflates and removes her boots before answering. "I don't know. Just anything."

This time I turn to face her and realize the reason for her request. "Oh, um. Well, I'm thinking of getting myself some breakfast. And then I thought I'd take the boy down for his walk. I can make you something and then you can join us," I offer. Giving a tight smile, she nods her consent and encouragement for me to keep going.

"Good, we'll do that then," I fill in while thinking of what else to bring up. "Uh, I think I have to take a shower and wash my hair later, which I trust you to remind me of." At this, my wife relaxes a bit and beckons me over. I comply and she smells my head.

"Yep, definitely hair day, babe," she replies honestly, as always.

"That's what I thought. I'm pretty proud I remembered before you reminded me," I jab at my own expense, which earns a half tense laugh. It's beginning to work.

"Oh! And I think I'm just about finished with your tattoo art. Should be a little more touch up and then you'll be all set to make an appointment."

This does the trick and Ella visibly eases and a grin spreads across her face. "Really? I knew you were getting close. I can't wait to see how well the finished product transfers."

"Me neither, honey. Not to toot my own horn, but I think it will turn out really great."

"With how good it looks on paper, I'm sure it will be amazing in ink."

"Aww, thanks, baby."

Leaning down to where Ella has remained seated, I meet her lips with mine. She reciprocates a little more eagerly than I had anticipated, resulting in me smiling into the kiss. Before I can pull back, I feel her tug my hand and pull me down. We break the kiss as I take the space beside her which Maxwell left some time ago. She pulls her legs up onto the couch and leans against my shoulder, turning her face into my neck.

"Thank you, babe," come the whispered words.

The sincerity and weightiness of those three words sends a tingling down my spine; or it could be the soft, warm breath caressing my neck. Either way, I couldn't fight the quirk of my lips if I tried.

Ella places a soft, intentional kiss on my jaw at the base of my ear.

"Mmm," I hum, wrapping my arms tightly around her. "It seems to be getting easier for you to calm yourself down. I'm proud of you. You're the strongest person I know."

"Not so." She scoffs disbelievingly.

"But you are, though." I hold her a moment longer. "Do you want to talk about just now?"

I feel her shrug into me. "There isn't much to talk about. I was just kind of feeling nervous and a subtle unease about the game. Probably anxiety related but not a panic attack or anything."

"I'm glad to hear it." I lower my voice conspiratorially. "Do you wanna know a secret?"

She pulls back slightly to face me, her expression unreadable. "Always."

"I'm nervous about the game, too," I voice the doubt I hadn't even admitted to myself until just now. "What if I'm not good enough? What if I get out there and choke? What if I'm not meant to be here even if it feels so right?" Now that I opened the floodgates, my emotions are rising to the surface and fear is gnawing at me. I drop my head, averting my gaze.

"Look at me, baby." When I refuse, Ella's gentle touch lifts my chin. Her eyes, when I look back into them, are, impossibly, soft and incredulous at the same time. "You are, without question, the best goalkeeper in the world. I know I might be bias, but it's true. You, not good enough?! What is that tournament this summer? Oh yeah, the Olympics! Which you already medaled in once and have been chosen to represent your country in again. You were made for Champions League. Keep your chin up. I have no doubt you'll rise to this challenge. You can literally do anything you set your mind to. You are the most talented, hardest working person I know. And the best wife a girl could ask for," she finishes with a sincere smile and wink.

"I can think of one better," I mumble, overwhelmed by the onslaught of love rushing through me for the beautiful, incredible woman next to me.

"You better mean me," my wife threatens.

"Well, actually..."

"Erin Katrina." Her voice carries a dangerous warning, and she glowers at me.

"Just kidding, Ella. There's no one else."

She leans in to kiss my cheek and, when she pulls back, she's wearing a grimace. "Okay, we really need to eat and take Max out, because that shower needs to happen sooner rather than later."

"Mood killer," I mutter under my breath.

"Don't think that was me, babe."

*

I am able to put the final touches on the artwork to Ella's satisfaction, and miraculously she is able to call and be fit into an opening at the recommended tattoo place nearby that some girls from the team have used. Additionally, and doubly miraculously, they were available for her to go in for the consultation tonight; meaning tomorrow, between morning conditioning and the show in the evening, she will actually get the first part of her yin and yang tattoo done.

It's a timely piece for her: the lion signifying her dark months and recent, as well as past, struggles; and later, when the lilies are added, the peace and promise of better; and that fact that those two qualities can coexist in one person.

 

**

 

Our episode goes well Monday night, by Ella and Erin Show standards. This means uncontrollable laughter for a portion of Head's Up from Ella, myself joking that Max would make a better teammate, allowing Emma and Therese to speak in Swedish for their turn (we're pretty sure they cheated at least a little), a trick question or two designed to trip guests up, Ella's freshly inked and still shimmering ink visible on her left bicep, and too much laughter and confusion and language barrier issues to leave in that have to be edited out.

All in all we consider the episode a success, more comparable to Red Stars days than The Dash. Shockingly, our new teammates aren't completely turned off by us and seem willing to gives us future chances. So many things about this night prove that we are in a good place.

Even if we don't understand one another fully because of different cultures and languages, Ella and I have built relationships and a chemistry with this team through a lot of hard work over the last month; and if my wife had lost her true laugh for a little while there, she has anything but, currently. And to top it off, I'm playing behind a backline I trust.

This upcoming game has nothing on us.

 

**

 

Or so I thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got pretty close to the week mark...would have had this up earlier but suffered technical difficulties for several hours.  
> I think I will try writing daily, maybe sections at a time, and start regularly updating more often again :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is The Chapter. I only hope I did it justice. It was kind of a bitch to write. But, it's nearly 3500 words.

With warmups just getting started, both teams taking the field, I catch the initial interaction between Ella and Sophie.  They spot each other across the pitch and meet roughly halfway.  I watch as my wife takes a running jump into the blonde, the latter wrapping her in her arms.

After a couple minutes, Ali Riley also notices.  "Hey, your wife is fraternizing with the enemy.  Shouldn't that be illegal before a match?" she asks, mockingly appalled.  The two in question are now chatting animatedly.

"Nah, it's just Soph.  It'll be fine, I'll allow it," I say with a grin, jogging over to greet the midfielder myself.

Sporting matching smiles (or as matching as any smile aside from maybe Tobin Heath's can be to that of Sophie Schmidt), both women turn at my approach.

"Sophie!"  I clap her on the shoulder.

"Erin!" she enthuses, slinging her arm across my shoulders.  "Long time, no see."

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't just see each other a month ago," Ella interjects.  "It's been longer for me."  She pulls our friend into another quick hug, eliciting an amused laugh from the blonde.  

"Alright, there's enough of me to go around, shorty," Soph chortles, blinding teeth visible.

I join in her laughter while Ella pouts, unamused.  "Don't worry, honey.  I love you the way you are."

"Very funny, guys."

I notice everyone is lining up for their drills, so I cut the teasing short.  "Ooh, looks like we should get to the team," I announce in an undertone.  "You too, Soph."

"Oh yeah.  Don't wanna get in trouble," she agrees, turning to wave while jogging off.

"Catch up with you later," Ella calls out.

"You bet!"

We head to our side of the field to join in our respective position warm up drills.  

After a half hour getting loose, we clear off the pitch and head to the locker room, only for the starting eleven to make our way back out ten minutes later.  We're introduced and the captains shake hands before each player takes her position.

I make my trek to the goal box, putting everything out of my mind except the feel of my gloves, the grip of my cleats, and my tunnel vision of the field as the starting whistle is blown.

 

**

 

As the thirteenth minute approaches, Frankfurt gaining possession in their third, I gear up for the inevitable oncoming attack.  I watch on, mentally and physically getting myself in position, and shouting instructions to my backline, as the rushing midfield runs the ball up the pitch toward me.  Making a series of passes, skirting around my defense, their attack is barreling down on me and I'm ready as I'll ever be.  A cross is made to the center of the field, meeting a perfectly timed, on-side, burst of speed.  I glue my eyes on the ball and the forward's dribbling movement and body language to get a good read on the coming shot.  Near the eighteen yard, she pulls her right foot back and shoots, missing high enough that I barely jump before realizing there isn't a save to be made.  

I receive the ball for my kick and place it at the top of the box, signaling my defenders to play up higher.  Taking a few steps back, I fix my gaze on the midfield, selecting my target before taking a breath and the few necessary strides to send the ball in.

My foot connects in what I know will be a perfectly projected arc, and that's when I feel it.  Before I see where the ball's projectile sends it, before I can really process what my body is going through, I fall to the ground.

 _Shit._   Pain shoots up and down my right leg in either direction, originating from a spot on my knee.  _Shit shit shit._

Instinctively, I cradle the back of my knee with my gloved hands, writhing in pain.  This is a pain I know too well; nevertheless, I find my self hoping against hope it's merely a pulled or strained muscle.  I lay there for a few moments that feel much longer, having little sense of my environment and not registering at all that play has stopped.  Trainers rush to my side after an indefinite length of time, and all I'm registering is a faint buzzing over the screaming pain which is the only thing my brain has the energy to comprehend at the moment.  Words I can't interpret are coming from indistinct voices that sound a million miles away.  This cannot be happening right now. 

Finally I'm able to register some of my surroundings.  Three trainers are standing over me, trying to ascertain that I am alright and assessing the damage.  I allow them to prop me up, grimacing with the throbbing that movement causes.

"I tore something," I inform them through clenched teeth.  Because of course that's what I did.  As much as I'm inwardly pleading otherwise, I am all too familiar with this sensation to get my hopes up too high that it could anything but.

I pound my fist into the ground, muffling a scream.

"She is quite possibly correct," the head trainer verifies as he feels around my swelling knee.  "Look, McLeod, we need to get you onto the stretcher.  Can you help us lift you?" 

All I can muster is a nod.  The other two come along either side of me and I loop one arm around each of their necks, their arms in turn secured around my back and upper thighs.  On the count of three, I'm hefted up and placed on the stretcher to be carted off the pitch.

Out after a mere thirteen minutes in my first appearance in Champions League.

In the little cognitive space I have yet available, I catch a glimpse of Ella on the sideline before I'm taken through the tunnel.  Face white as a sheet, jaw slack, and eyes wide in an expression I could only describe as distraught, she is being reined in by a few teammates, preventing her from rushing to my side.

 _Good,_ I think.  There is no way I could handle seeing my horror, mirrored in my wife's face, up close and personal right now.  Her worry would only serve to aggravate my senses more in my current state.  

In an attempt to alleviate Ella's anxiety in the smallest of ways, I raise my hand toward the bench before being engulfed by the dim lighting and echoing walls of the tunnel.

*

I am wheeled through the locker room doors to the trainer's office.  Lifting me carefully off the gurney, they gingerly set me on the table.  It's almost like they think they could break me by being too firm.  Honestly, I feel as if I could; as if my knee could shatter at any jerky motion or harsh handling.  I grit my teeth and lock my jaw against the agony.  With the adrenaline ebbing, I no longer have a clue as to how I was able to bend my leg at all initially, or ever in my life for that matter.  Not only that, but I also feel as though the pain and the thoughts swirling around my head are going to cause me to pass out.

"I'm going to wrap ice around this to keep the swelling under control," the trainer says, voice calm and steady.  "I want you to keep it on for a full twenty minutes." 

He looks up and evaluates my face for just a second.  "Drink this entire Gatorade, too," he adds, handing me the beverage.  "You need to replenish and hydrate your body.  An injury like this...your system has gone through a lot quickly.  There isn't anything more we can do for you here.  Nothing seems broken, so we will have to send you to the hospital to get a scan done for further analysis of the damage.  Do you understand all of this?"

"Yes," I answer bluntly.  Coherent thoughts are not stringing themselves together to form sentences quite yet. 

"Okay, drink up," he orders.

Unscrewing the cap, I take a swig and focus on breathing correctly.  The ice pack is fastened firmly to my knee and I am made to promise that I won't move and will continue drinking.  After informing me he'll be back to check on me in twenty minutes, he leaves me alone with my thoughts.

No more than fifteen minutes could have passed since this whole ordeal went down.  I calculate out twenty minutes from now, realizing that should be around halftime, assuming there are a few minutes of stoppage time added.

*

I can tell the moment after halftime commences from the volume rising as the locker room steadily fills up.  My ice pack is being removed and the commotion level is getting closer.  Fairly quickly, however, it becomes more somber and hushed.

After a few minutes of team strategizing for the second half, my ears detect Ella's voice talking with coach nearby.

Just as my vitals are finishing up being taken, the door slowly pushes open.

"Baby?" my wife's tentative tone questions.

"Ella," I breathe out as she rushes to my side, securing my right hand in both of her own.  The pressure building in my chest is begging for release, and I can scarcely keep it contained any longer.

"I'm here, honey.  What can I do?"

"Just hold me?"  It comes out as an almost whispered plea as I feel myself reach my breaking point, the emotions underneath creating fissures on the surface. Ella pulls me close and I gather two fistfuls of her jersey, promptly sobbing into her stomach while her left arm holds me and her right elbow rests on my left shoulder, right hand cradling my head against her.

The trainer quietly collects his bag and slips out of the room granting us a few moments of privacy.

I know she can't stay long; the team will be needing her, but I don't want to let go any time soon.  My tears continue to flow freely as Ella holds me close.

"I don't want this to be it," I manage to choke out, still clutching her jersey tightly in my fists.

"I know, Erin," she sympathizes.  "And you don't know that it will be."

"I know it isn't good." I'm quick with the counter.  "I have to go to the hospital for an MRI.  And I have a good guess the results will show..."

"Don't say it."  Her demand effectively cuts me off.  "Just don't say it until you know, please."

 _But don't I know?_   Not saying it won't stop it from being true.  And I know Ella feels it too.  I saw her face when I was wheeled off, just as I feel her tensing even now.    

"Fine, I won't.  But, it won't make a difference," I mutter stubbornly into her abdomen.  Her chest inflates then deflates in a slow exhale.

"Babe, just hold tight.  I have to get back with the team, but I'll talk to the trainers and make sure they know I'll go with you to the hospital as soon as I'm released after that final whistle."

"Okay."  I begrudgingly relax my clenched fists and wipe my tears.

Placing a kiss to the top of my head, Ella squeezes my hand reassuringly before exiting.

 

**

 

With circumstances being what they are, the staff excuses Ella quickly after the game so we can be on our way.  She takes just enough time for a five minute shower and a speedy change.

The couple cycles of icing have allowed my knee the mobility to at least sit in the backseat of the cab, not that it isn't still excruciating.

A sinking feeling settles in as we make our way to the hospital, a sick anticipation for what I'll discover there.  At least I have my wife next to me, because I don't know how I'd hold up facing this alone.

My mind is in a haze as we walk into the Emergency Room waiting area, get signed in, wait to be called back for seemingly hours, and get set up meeting the doctor, before I finally get handed over to the MRI technician.

Another forty-five minutes later, I wait with bated breath as the doctor reenters the room Ella and I have been taken back to. 

Clipboard with my results at the ready, the doctor begins to talk.  Ella's hand slips into mine for support, and all of a sudden I don't feel prepared to hear the news on that medical chart.  The sinking feeling returns with a vengeance.

"Well, Miss McLeod, I have.."

"Missus," I correct automatically.

"What?"  He pauses to glance up at us, noting our clasped hands.  "Ah yes, sorry.  Mrs. McLeod, I have your scan results."  Pressure is applied to my hand and I see Ella looks as anxious as I feel.  "I'm going to let you have a look while I walk you through it."  He hooks the image up to the wall clips and begins pointing.  "Do you see this?  This is your anterior cruciate ligament, and this here," he indicates a shadow, "is evidence of tearing."

Even knowing what to expect, knowing these words would likely be coming, a weight drops into the pit of my stomach at the confirmation of what my instincts had already told me, making me feel nauseated.  A beat later, my wife's thumb picks up a circling motion on the soft spot of my hand.  I had also caught her intake of breath the moment the dreaded words were spoken.

The doctor is still speaking, so I tune back in.

"I see from your history that this is not your first tear."

"No, it isn't," I confirm hollowly.

"Now there's something interesting with this one.  Not the injury itself, but when I looked closely, I saw what looks to be about five or six weeks worth of healing in addition to the new incident which caused the major tearing.  I would say the initial - minor - tear happened a little over a month ago and wasn't given proper care.  Does that sound correct?"

"She pulled a muscle in her knee during the Olympic Qualifiers and played through it for a game," Ella informs the man as my mouth has gone dry.  

"Why didn't you say how bad it was?" she mildly accuses, rounding on me.  "Why didn't you get it checked out?"

My voice returns to me again.  "It didn't feel that bad. I iced and rested it, and found that walking it off and giving it some time seemed to help."

"It was very likely a minor issue that wouldn't have exhibited very harsh symptoms up front.  However, with insufficient time to heal, that made it susceptible later, as you unfortunately discovered today with a simple kick.

"You aren't going to like what I have to say; but, given your age and the fact that this will require another surgery, and therefore trauma to your body, I strongly recommend you don't play professionally again."

There it is; my final shred of hope being ripped away.

However, Ella is still fighting.  "You don't know her though. She has so much tenacity and determination.  It will be hard and take a lot of work, but she isn't ready..." I give her a quelling look before she can continue, halting her mid-sentence.  

I'm given a prescription to manage the pain, along with instructions to keep icing twenty minutes on and off the next couple days.  We are urged to set up a surgery at the earliest time available so I can begin the necessary physical therapy and rehab just to keep it healing properly.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I briefly think that the plans we made with Sophie just days ago will have to be cancelled.  Just like finishing this tournament.  Just like that elusive Olympic gold medal.  Just like my career.  Because I have to face facts; I'm thirty-three, sitting here with a _third_ ACL tear, as I was so kindly reminded.  Is there even a chance this isn't where the culmination of my dreams ends?  Dare I hope I can fight my way back from this?  

 _No.  I don't._ A dark voice floods my thoughts.  The bitter resolution forms in my heart as I contemplate the grueling, painful, torturous months of rehab that decision would demand.  It cannot possibly be worth it at this stage of my life.

 

**

 

That night as we lay in bed, I voice my doubts and explain to Ella my decision.  I explain that it just doesn't make sense to put my body through that rigorous of a recovery for simply the potential to play again.  So much could go wrong or not pan out the way I would hope, and I don't think I have a year of physically and emotionally draining therapy and rehabilitation in me.  

"Erin, listen to me, and listen good.  I will support you one hundred percent no matter what you choose.  You know that.  I will stick by your side.  I will defend your decision.  You need to know that."

"I do, babe."  My voice is small, but I sincerely believe her.

"Good.  Because you need to hear this."

Oh God, that's not it?  I don't know if I have the energy for a speech.  My hopes and dreams have just been crushed.  Can't a girl mope in peace?

She stares me down, eyes fairly bursting with determination.

"You are not a quitter.  When have you let something get you down and keep you there?  Hell, when have you let someone tell you if you can or can't do something?  Let that fuel you.  I said the other day and I still mean it: you can do whatever you set your mind to.

"So, if you honest to God don't think your career can continue; if you believe this mountain is too big for you to climb, and you wanna hang up your cleats because you have gotten what you can out of this career and want to move on, I will support you through that.  I won't stand in your way.  

"But, if the part of you that I know doesn't want that is yelling at you to give it a shot, then do your damnedest to work through it.  You and I both know it will be far from easy, but you just told me a few hours ago that you weren't ready for this to be it.  So, easy or not, I will fight with you if you choose to make a comeback.

"Like I said, the choice is yours to make alone, honey.  And you can choose to be done now.  But, if it's because of a doctor's opinion or you simply don't want to try because you're afraid you might not succeed, don't give up.  That isn't the woman I married."

"But what if it is?" I throw back bitterly.  

"Oh sweetie, it is far from.  And I don't want you insinuating otherwise."  Ella's fierce eyes bore into mine and I have to look away.

"Thanks for your faith in me and for being with me today.  It might not seem like I handled everything very well as it was, but it would have been worse without you there," I confess, leaning my head against the pillow and pulling Maxwell close to my chest.  "You know, back when I told you I would need to lean on you at some point, too, I didn't mean for it to happen so soon."

She gives a soft chuckle.  "I know, babe.  But what goes around comes around, and now I get to give what you gave me."  Leaning in, she places a tender kiss to my lips and then curls up next to me.

"I love you and am fully in support of you."  Her breath hits my ear and sends a chilling shiver down my spine.

"I love you, too, Ella."

Before I can settle enough to fall asleep, Ella's words play back in my head.  She has complete faith in me, will support me either way, but she obviously doesn't want me to turn away.  Clearly, that isn't really what I want.  I didn't feel like my soccer career would end now.  So maybe she has a point, maybe she's right. 

 _But, maybe she's not,_ that toxic voice echoes again.  _She doesn't know.  She hasn't been at this crossroads before (not in the same way anyway).  She doesn't know the pain one ACL recovery causes, let alone three.  Besides, she has to say all those things.  As a wife, she's practically required to feel that way._

 And I drift off eventually, with more doubts and questions than answers.


End file.
